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THE  Fi  it  E- WORSHIPPERS     ....  127 

'I'm.  LIGHT  OF  THE  II  A  HAM  ,  .    202 



THE  Poem,  or  Romance,  of  LALLA  EOOKH,  having  now 
reached,  I  understand,  its  twentieth  edition,  a  short  ac- 
count of  the  origin  and  progress  of  a  work  which  has 
been  hitherto  so  very  fortunate  in  its  course  may  not  be 
deemed,  perhaps,  superfluous  or  misplaced. 

It  was  about  the  year  1812,  that,  far  more  through  the 
encouraging  suggestions  of  friends  than  from  any  confi- 
dent promptings  of  my  own  ambition,  I  conceived  the 
design  of  writing  a  Poem  upon  some  Oriental  subject, 
and  of  those  quarto  dimensions  which  Scott's  successful 
publications  in  that  form  had  then  rendered  the  regular 
poetical  standard.  A  negotiation  on  the  subject  was 
opened  with  the  Messrs.  Longman  in  the  same  year; 
but,  from  some  causes  which  I  cannot  now  recollect,  led 
to  no  decisive  result ;  nor  was  it  till  a  year  or  two  after, 
that  any  further  steps  were  taken  in  the  matter,  —  their 
house  being  the  only  one,  it  is  right  to  add,  with  which, 
from  first  to  last,  1  held  any  communication  upon  the 

On  this  last  occasion,  Mr.  Perry  kindly  offered  himself 
as  my  representative  in  the  treaty;  and,  what  with  the 
friendly  zeal  of  my  negotiator  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  prompt  and  liberal  spirit  with  which  lie  was  met  on 
the  other,  there  lias  seldom,  I  think,  occurred  any  transac- 
tion in  which  Trade  and  Poesy  have  shone  out  so  advanta- 



geously  in  each  other's  eyes.  The  short  discussion  that 
then  took  place,  between  the  two  parties,  may  be  com- 
prised in  a  very  few  sentences.  "  I  am  of  opinion,"  said 
Mr.  Perry,  —  enforcing  his  view  of  the  case  by  arguments 
which  it  is  not  for  me  to  cite,  —  "  that  Mr.  Moore  ought 
to  receive  for  his  Poem  the  largest  price  that  has  been 
given,  in  our  day,  for  such  a  work."  "  That  was,"  an- 
swered the  Messrs.  Longman,  "  three  thousand  guineas." 
"Exactly  so,"  replied  Mr.  Perry,  "and  no  less  a  sum 
ought  he  to  receive." 

It  was  then  objected,  and  very  reasonably,  on  the  part 
of  the  firm,  that  they  had  never  yet  seen  a  single  line  of 
the  Poem ;  and  that  a  perusal  of  the  work  ought  to  be 
allowed  to  them,  before  they  embarked  so  large  a  sum  in 
the  purchase.  But,  no ;  —  the  romantic  view  which  my 
friend  Perry  took  of  the  matter,  was,  that  this  price 
should  be  given  as  a  tribute  to  reputation  already  acquired, 
without  any  condition  for  a  previous  perusal  of  the  new 
work.  This  high  tone,  I  must  confess,  not  a  little  startled 
and  alarmed  me ;  but,  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  Eomance, 
—  as  well  on  the  publishers'  side  as  the  poet's,  —  this 
very  generous  view  of  the  transaction  was,  without  any 
difficulty,  acceded  to,  and  the  firm  agreed,  before  we  sep- 
arated, that  I  was  to  receive  three  thousand  guineas  for 
my  Poem. 

At  the  time  of  this  agreement,  but  little  of  the  work, 
as  it  stands  at  present,  had  yet  been  written.  But  the 
ready  confidence  in  my  success  shown  by  others,  made  up 
for  the  deficiency  of  that  requisite  feeling  within  myself ; 
while  a  strong  desire  not  wholly  to  disappoint  this  "au- 
guring hope,"  became  almost  a  substitute  for  inspiration. 
In  the  year  1815,  therefore,  having  made  some  progress 
in  my  task,  I  wrote  to  report  the  state  of  the  work  to 
the  Messrs.  Longman,  adding,  that  I  was  now  most  willing 
and  ready,  should  they  desire  it,  to  submit  the  manuscript 


for  their  consideration.  Their  answer  to  this  offer  was  as 
follows :  "  We  are  certainly  impatient  for  the  perusal  of 
the  Poem  ;  but  solely  for  our  gratification.  Your  senti- 
ments are  always  honorable."  * 

I  continued  to  pursue  my  task  for  another  year,  being 
likewise  occasionally  occupied  with  the  Irish  Melodies, 
two  or  three  numbers  of  which  made  their  appearance 
during  the  period  employed  in  writing  Lalla  Rookh.  At 
length,  in  the  year  1816,  I  found  my  work  sufficiently 
advanced  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  publishers. 
But  the  state  of  distress  to  which  England  was  reduced, 
in  that  dismal  year,  by  the  exhausting  effects  of  the  series 
of  wars  she  had  just  then  concluded,  and  the  general  em- 
barrassment of  all  classes  both  agricultural  and  com- 
mercial, rendered  it  a  juncture  the  least  favorable  that 
could  well  be  conceived  for  the  first  launch  into  print  of 
so  light  and  costly  a  venture  as  Lalla  Rookh.  Feeling 
conscious,  therefore,  that  under  such  circumstances  I 
should  act  but  honestly  in  putting  it  in  the  power  of  the 
Messrs.  Longman  to  reconsider  the  terms  of  their  engage- 
ment with  me,  —  leaving  them  free  to  postpone,  modify, 
or  even,  should  such  be  their  wish,  relinquish  it  alto- 
gether, I  wrote  them  a  letter  to  that  effect,  and  received 
the  following  answer  :  "  We  shall  be  most  happy  in  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  February.  We  agree  with  you, 
indeed,  that  the  times  are  most  inauspicious  for  'poetry 
and  thousands ; '  but  we  believe  that  your  poetry  would 
do  more  than  that  of  any  other  living  poet  at  the  present 
moment."  f 

The  length  of  time  I  employed  in  writing  the  few  sto- 
ries strung  together  in  Lalla  Rookh  will  appear,  to  some 
persons,  much  more  than  was  necessary  for  the  production 
of  such  easy  and  "light  o'  love"  fictions.  l»ut,  besides 
that  I  have  been,  at  all  times,  a  far  more  slow  and  pains* 

•  April  10,  1815.  t  November  9,  1810. 


taking  workman  than  would  ever  be  guessed,  I  fear,  from 
the  result,  I  felt  that,  in  this  instance,  I  had  taken  upon 
myself  a  more  than  ordinary  responsibility,  from  the 
immense  stake  risked  by  others  on  my  chance  of  success. 
For  a  long  time,  therefore,  after  the  agreement  had  been 
concluded,  though  generally  at  work  with  a  view  to  this 
task,  I  made  but  very  little  real  progress  in  it ;  and  I 
have  still  by  me  the  beginnings  of  several  stories  con- 
tinued, some  of  them,  to  the  length  of  three  or  four 
hundred  lines,  which,  after  in  vain  endeavoring  to  mould 
them  into  shape,  I  threw  aside,  like  the  tale  of  Cambus- 
can,  "left  half-told."  One  of  these  stories,  entitled  The 
Peri's  Daughter,  was  meant  to  relate  the  loves  of  a  nymph 
of  this  aerial  extraction  with  a  youth  of  mortal  race,  the 
rightful  Prince  of  Ormuz,  who  had  been,  from  his  infancy, 
brought  up  in  seclusion,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Amou, 
by  an  aged  guardian  named  Mohassan.  The  story  opens 
with  the  first  meeting  of  these  destined  lovers,  then  in 
their  childhood  ;  the  Peri  having  wafted  her  daughter  to 
this  holy  retreat,  in  a  bright,  enchanted  boat,  whose  first 
appearance  is  thus  described :  — 

For,  down  the  silvery  tide  afar, 
There  came  a  boat,  as  swift  and  bright 

As  shines,  in  heav'n,  some  pilgrim-star, 
That  leaves  its  own  high  home,  at  night, 
To  shoot  to  distant  shrines  of  light. 

"It  comes,  it  comes,"  young  Orian  cries, 
And  panting  to  Mohassan  flies. 
Then,  down  npon  the  flowery  grass 
Keclines  to  see  the  vision  pass  ; 
With  partly  joy  and  partly  fear, 
To  find  its  wondrous  light  so  near, 
And  hiding  oft  his  dazzled  eyes 
Among  the  flowers  on  which  he  lies. 


Within  the  boat  a  baby  slept, 

Like  a  young  pearl  within  its  shell  ; 
While  one,  who  seem'd  of  riper  years, 
But  not  of  earth,  or  earth-like  spheres, 

Her  watch  beside  the  sluraberer  kept;  • 

Gracefully  waving,  in  her  hand, 
The  feathers  of  some  holy  bird, 
With  which,  from  time  to  time,  she  stirr'd 

The  fragrant  air,  and  coolly  fann'd 

The  baby's  brow,  or  brush'd  away 
The  butterflies  that,  bright  and  blue 

As  on  the  mountains  of  Malay, 
Around  the  sleeping  infant  flew. 

And  now  the  fairy  boat  hath  stopp'd 
Beside  the  bank,  —  the  nymph  has  dropp'd 
Her  golden  anchor  in  the  stream; 

A  song  is  sung  by  the  Peri  in  approaching,  of  which 
the  following  forms  a  part :  — 

My  child  she  is  but  half  divine, 
Her  father  sleeps  in  the  Caspian  water; 
Sea-weeds  twine 
His  funeral  shrine, 

But  he  lives  again  in  the  Peri's  daughter. 
Fain  would  I  fly  from  mortal  sight 

To  my  own  sweet  bowers  of  Peristan; 
But,  there,  the  flowers  are  all  too  bright 

For  the  eyes  of  a  baby  born  of  man. 
On  flowers  of  earth  her  feet  must  tread; 
So  hither  my  light-wing'd  bark  hath  brought  her; 
Stranger,  spread 
Thy  leafiest  bed, 
To  rest  the  wandering  Peri's  daughter. 

In  another  of  these  inchoate  fragments,  a  proud 
female  saint,  named  lianou,  plays  a  principal  part;  and 
her  progress  through  the  streets  of  Cufa,  on  the  night 
of  a  great  illuminated  festival,  I  find  thus  described :  — 


It  was  a  scene  of  mirth  that  drew 

A  smile  from  ev'n  the  Saint  Banou, 

As,  through  the  hush'd,  admiring  throng, 

She  went  with  stately  steps  along, 

And  counted  o'er,  that  all  might  see, 

The  rubies  of  her  rosary. 

But  none  might  see  the  worldly  smile 

That  lurk'd  beneath  her  veil,  the  while:  — 

Alia  forbid !  for,  who  would  wait 

Her  blessing  at  the  temple's  gate,  — 

What  holy  man  would  ever  run 

To  kiss  the  ground  she  knelt  upon, 

If  once,  by  luckless  chance,  he  knew 

She  look'd  and  smil'd  as  others  do  ? 

Her  hands  were  join'd,  and  from  each  wrist 

By  threads  of  pearl  and  golden  twist 

Hung  relics  of  the  saints  of  yore, 

And  scraps  of  talismanic  lore,  — 

Charms  for  the  old,  the  sick,  the  frail, 

Some  made  for  use,  and  all  for  sale. 

On  either  side,  the  crowd  withdrew, 

To  let  the  Saint  pass  proudly  through; 

While  turban' d  heads  of  every  hue, 

Green,  white,  and  crimson,  bow'd  around, 

And  gay  tiaras  touch'd  the  ground, — 

As  tulip-bells,  when  o'er  their  beds 

The  musk-wind  passes,  bend  their  heads. 

Nay,  some  there  were,  among  the  crowd 

Of  Moslem  heads  that  round  her  bow'd, 

So  fill'd  with  zeal,  by  many  a  draught 

Of  Shiraz  wine  profanely  quaff'd, 

That,  sinking  low  in  reverence  then, 

They  never  rose  till  morn  again. 

There  are  yet  two  more  of  these  unfinished  sketches, 
one  of  which  extends  to  a  much  greater  length  than  I 
was  aware  of ;  and,  as  far  as  I  can  judge  from  a  hasty 
renewal  of  my  acquaintance  with  it,  is  not  incapable  of 
being  yet  turned  to  account. 

In  only  one  of  these  unfinished  sketches,  the  tale  of 
The  Peri's  Daughter,  had  I  yet  ventured  to  invoke  that 


most  home-felt  of  all  my  inspirations,  which  has  lent  to 
the  story  of  The  Fire-worshippers  its  main  attraction 
and  interest.  That  it  was  my  intention,  in  the  concealed 
Prince  of  Ormuz,  to  shadow  out  some  impersonation  of 
this  feeling,  I  take  for  granted  from  the  prophetic  words 
supposed  to  be  addressed  to  him  by  his  aged  guardian :  — 

Bright  child  of  destiny!  even  now 
I  read  the  promise  on  that  brow, 
That  tyrants  shall  no  more  defile 
The  glories  of  the  Green  Sea  Isle, 
But  Onnuz  shall  again  be  free, 
And  hail  her  native  Lord  in  thee! 

In  none  of  the  other  fragments  do  I  find  any  trace  of 
this  sort  of  feeling,  either  in  the  subject  or  the  person- 
ages of  the  intended  story;  and  this  was  the  reason, 
doubtless,  though  hardly  known,  at  the  time,  to  myself, 
that,  finding  my  subjects  so  slow  in  kindling  my  own 
sympathies,  I  began  to  despair  of  their  ever  touching  the 
hearts  of  others ;  and  felt  often  inclined  to  say  :  — 

"  Oh  no,  I  have  no  voice  or  hand 
For  such  a  song,  in  such  a  land." 

Had  this  series  of  disheartening  experiments  been  car- 
ried on  much  further,  I  must  have  thrown  aside  the  work 
in  despair.  But,  at  last,  fortunately,  as  it  proved,  the 
thought  occurred  to  me  of  founding  a  story  on  the  fierce 
struggle  so  long  maintained  l>etween  the  Ghebers,*  or 
ancient  Fire-worshippers  of  Persia,  and  their  haughty 
Moslem  masters.  From  that  moment,  a  new  and  deep 
interest  in  my  whole  task  took  possession  of  me.  The 

•  Voltaire,  in  his  tragedy  of  "Los  Guebres,"  written  with  a 
similar  under-ourn-nt  of  meaning,  was  arcusod  of  having  trans- 
formed liis  Firo-worshipprrs  into  .lansonists.  "(Juolqiies  figu- 
ristcs,"  he  says,  "pre"tendent  quo  l««s  CJuM>ros  son!  los  .lansrnistes." 


cause  of  tolerance  was  again  my  inspiring  theme;  and 
the  spirit  that  had  spoken  in  the  melodies  of  Ireland 
soon  found  itself  at  home  in  the  East. 

Having  thus  laid  open  the  secrets  of  the  workshop  to 
account  for  the  time  expended  in  writing  this  work,  I 
must  also,  in  justice  to  my  own  industry,  notice  the  pains 
I  took  in  long  and  laboriously  reading  for  it.  To  form  a 
storehouse,  as  it  were,  of  illustration  purely  Oriental,  and 
so  familiarize  myself  with  its  various  treasures,  that,  as 
quick  as  Fancy  required  the  aid  of  fact,  in  her  spiritings, 
the  memory  was  ready,  like  another  Ariel,  at  her  "strong 
bidding,"  to  furnish  materials  for  the  spell-work,  —  such 
was,  for  a  long  while,  the  sole  object  of  my  studies ;  and 
whatever  time  and  trouble  this  preparatory  process  may 
have  cost  me,  the  effects  resulting  from  it,  as  far  as  the 
humble  merit  of  truthfulness  is  concerned,  have  been 
such  as  to  repay  me  more  than  sufficiently  for  my  pains. 
I  have  not  forgotten  how  great  was  my  pleasure,  when 
told  by  the  late  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  that  he  was  once 

asked  by  Colonel  "VV s,  the  historian  of  British  India, 

"  whether  it  was  true  that  Moore  had  never  been  in  the 
East  ?  "  "  Never,"  answered  Mackintosh.  "  Well,  that 

shows  me,"  replied  Colonel  W s,  "  that  reading  over 

D'Herbelot  is  as  good  as  riding  on  the  back  of  a  camel." 

I  need  hardly  subjoin  to  this  lively  speech,  that,  al- 
though D'Herbelot's  valuable  work  was,  of  course,  one  of 
my  manuals,  I  took  the  whole  range  of  all  such  Oriental 
reading  as  was  accessible  to  me ;  and  became,  for  the 
time,  indeed,  far  more  conversant  with  all  relating  to  that 
distant  region,  than  I  have  ever  been  with  the  scenery, 
productions,  or  modes  of  life  of  any  of  those  countries 
lying  most  within  my  reach.  We  know  that  D'Anville, 
though  never  in  his  life  out  of  Paris,  was  able  to  correct 
a  number  of  errors  in  a  plan  of  the  Troad  taken  by  De 
Choiseul,  on  the  spot ;  and  for  my  own  very  different,  as 


well  as  far  inferior,  purposes,  the  knowledge  I  had  thus 
acquired  of  distant  localities,  seen  only  by  me  in  my  day- 
dreams, was  no  less  ready  and  useful. 

An  ample  reward  for  all  this  painstaking  has  been 
found  in  such  welcome  tributes  as  I  have  just  now  cited ; 
nor  can  I  deny  myself  the  gratification  of  citing  a  few 
more  of  the  same  description.  From  another  distin- 
guished authority  on  Eastern  subjects,  the  late  Sir  John 
Malcolm,  I  had  myself  the  pleasure  of  hearing  a  similar 
opinion  publicly  expressed ;  —  that  eminent  person,  in  a 
speech  spoken  by  him  at  a  Literary  Fund  Dinner,  having 
remarked,  that  together  with  those  qualities  of  a  poet 
which  he  much  too  partially  assigned  to  me  was  combined 
also  "  the  truth  of  the  historian." 

Sir  William  Ouseley,  another  high  authority,  in  giving 
his  testimony  to  the  same  effect,  thus  notices  an  excep- 
tion to  the  general  accuracy  for  which  he  gives  me  credit : 
"Dazzled  by  the  beauties  of  this  composition,*  few 
readers  can  perceive,  and  none  surely  can  regret,  that  the 
pott,  in  his  magnificent  catastrophe,  has  forgotten,  or 
boldly  and  most  happily  violated,  the  precept  of  Zoro- 
aster, above  noticed,  which  held  it  impious  to  consume 
any  portion  of  a  human  body  by  fire,  especially  by  that 
which  glowed  upon  their  altars."  Having  long  lost,  I 
fear,  most  of  my  Eastern  learning,  I  can  only  cite,  in  de- 
fence of  my  catastrophe,  an  old  Oriental  tradition,  which 
relates  that  Nimro  .,  when  Abraham  refused,  ;it  his  com- 
mand, to  worship  he  fire,  ordi'ml  him  to  be  thrown  into 
the  midst  of  the  flames,  f  A  precedent  so  ancient  for 
this  sort  of  use  of  the  worshipped  element,  would  appear, 
for  all  purposes  at  least  of  poetry,  fully  sufficient. 

•  The  Fire-worshippers. 

t  "  TIM  hint  .-mil  in  Hclini-i  hanc  fabulam,  quod  Abraham  in 
ignem  missus  sit,  quia  igncin  utloraru  noluit."  —  Sr.  HIKKO.N.  in 
Qua;  at.  in  (Jcnenm. 


In  addition  to  these  agreeable  testimonies,  I  have  also 
heard,  and  need  hardly  add,  with  some  pride  and  pleasure, 
that  parts  of  this  work  have  been  rendered  into  Persian, 
and  have  found  their  way  to  Ispahan.  To  this  fact,  as 
I  am  willing  to  think  it,  allusion  is  made  in  some  lively 
verses,  written  many  years  since,  by  my  friend  Mr. 
Luttrell :  - 

"  I'm  told,  dear  Moore,  your  lays  are  sung, 

(Can  it  be  true,  you  lucky  man  ?) 
By  moonlight,  in  the  Persian  tongue, 
Along  the  streets  of  Ispahan." 

That  some  knowledge  of  the  work  may  have  really 
reached  that  region  appears  not  improbable  from  a  pas- 
sage in  the  Travels  of  Mr.  Frazer,  who  says,  that  "  being 
delayed  for  some  time  at  a  town  on  the  shores  of  the 
Caspian,  he  was  lucky  enough  to  be  able  to  amuse  him- 
self with  a  copy  of  Lalla  Eookh,  which  a  Persian  had 
lent  him." 

Of  the  description  of  Balbec,  in  "Paradise  and  the 
Peri,"  Mr.  Carne,  in  his  Letters  from  the  East,  thus 
speaks :  "  The  description  in  Lalla  Eookh  of  the  plain 
and  its  ruins  is  exquisitely  faithful.  The  minaret  is  on 
the  declivity  near  at  hand,  and  there  wanted  only  the 
muezzin's  cry  to  break  the  silence." 

I  shall  now  tax  my  reader's  patience  with  but  one 
more  of  these  generous  vouchers.  Whatever  of  vanity 
there  may  be  in  citing  such  tributes,  they  show,  at  least, 
of  what  great  value,  even  in  poetry,  is  that  prosaic  qual- 
ity, industry ;  since,  as  the  reader  of  the  foregoing  pages 
is  now  fully  apprised,  it  was  in  a  slow  and  laborious  col- 
lection of  small  facts,  that  the  first  foundations  of  this 
fanciful  Romance  were  laid. 

The  friendly  testimony  I  have  just  referred  to,  ap- 
peared, some  years  since,  in  the  form  in  which  I  now  give 
it,  and,  if  I  recollect  right,  in  the  Athenceum :  — 

PREFACE.  17. 

"  I  embrace  this  opportunity  of  bearing  my  individual  testimony 
(if  it  be  of  any  value)  to  the  extraordinary  accuracy  of  Mr.  Moore, 
in  his  topographical,  antiquarian,  and  characteristic  details,  whether 
of  costume,  manners,  or  less  changing  monuments,  both  in  his 
Lai  I  a  Rookli  and  in  the  Epicurean.  It  has  been  my  fortune  to  read 
his  Atlantic,  Bernmdean,  and  American  Odes  and  Epistles,  in  the 
countries  and  among  the  people  to  which  and  to  whom  they  re- 
lated; I  enjoyed  also  the  exquisite  delight  of  reading  his  Lalla 
Rookh,  in  Persia  itself;  and  I  have  perused  the  Epicurean,  while 
all  my  recollections  of  Egypt  and  its  still  existing  wonders  are  as 
fresh  as  when  I  quitted  the  hanks  of  the  Nile  for  Arabia:  —  I  owe 
it,  therefore,  as  a  debt  of  gratitude  (though  the  payment  is  most  inad- 
equate), for  the  great  pleasure  I  have  derived  from  his  productions, 
to  bear  my  humble  testimony  to  their  local  fidelity.  "  J.  S.  B." 

Among  the  incidents  connected  with  this  work,  I 
must  not  omit  to  notice  the  splendid  Divertissement, 
founded  upon  it,  which  was  acted  at  the  Chateau  Royal 
of  Berlin,  during  the  visit  of  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas 
to  that  capital,  in  the  year  1822.  The  different  stories 
composing  the  work  were  represented  in  Tableaux  Vivans 
and  songs  ;  and  among  the  crowd  of  royal  and  noble  per- 
sonages engaged  in  the  performances,  1  shall  mention 
those  only  who  represented  the  principal  characters,  and 
whom  I  find  thus  enumerated  in  the  published  account 
of  the  Divertissement.* 

"  Fadladin,  Grand-Nasir  .     .     Cotnte  Unnck  \~Mari-chal  de  Coitr). 
Aliris,  Roi  de  Rncharie  .     .     .S.  A.  1.  le.  Crnnd-Dnr. 
Lalla  Houkh      .....     S.  A.  I.  Id 

(  S.  A.   It.  le    Prince  (iuillttnme. 
Aarnngzeb,  le  Grand  Moral 

I     frt'rc  du  Hoi. 

Abdallah,  PtVe  d'  Aliris  .     .     8.  A.  li.  If  Due  <!<•  Cumlterlaml. 

(  S.    A.    li.    la    Princexse   Louise 
La  Heine,  son  opouse      .     .     <      ,.    ,  ,  ...  „ 

(      Itailzinll." 

•  Lalla  Ronkh.  Divertissement  mele"  de  Chants  et  de  Pauses, 
Berlin,  1822.  The  work  contain*  a  serif*  of  colored  engraving*,  rep- 
resenting groups,  processions.  etc..  in  different  Oriental  costumes. 


Besides  these  and.  other  leading  personages,  there  were 
also  brought  into  action,  under  the  various  denomina- 
tions of  Seigneurs  et  Dames  de  Bucharie,  Dames  de 
Cachemire,  Seigneurs  et  Dames  dansans  &  la  Fete  des 
Roses,  etc.,  nearly  150  persons. 

Of  the  manner  and  style  in  Avhich  the  Tableaux  of  the 
different  stories  are  described  in  the  work  from  which  I 
cite,  the  following  account  of  the  performance  of  Para- 
dise and  the  Peri  will  afford  some  specimen :  — 

"La  decoration  representoit  les  portes  brillantes  du 
Paradis,  entourees  de  nuages.  Dans  le  premier  tableau 
on  voyoit  la  Peri,  triste  et  desolee,  couchee  sur  le  seuil 
des  portes  fermees,  et  1'Ange  de  lumiere  qui  lui  adresse 
des  consolations  et  des  conseils.  Le  second  represente 
le  moment  ou  la  Peri,  dans  1'espoir  que  ce  don  lui  ouvrira 
1'entree  du  Paradis,  rucueille  la  derniere  goutte  de  sang 
que  vient  de  verser  le  jeune  guerrier  indien.  .  .  . 

"  La  Peri  et  1' Ange  de  lumiere  repondoient  pleinement 
a  1'image  et  a  1'idee  cpi'on  est  tente  de  se  faire  de  ces 
deux  individus,  et  1'impression  qu'a  faite  generalement 
la  suite  des  tableaux  de  cet  episode  delicat  et  interessant 
est  loin  de  s'effacer  de  notre  souvenir." 

In  this  grand  Fete,  it  appears,  originated  the  transla- 
tion of  Lalla  Rookh  into  German  *  verse,  by  the  Baron 
de  la  Motte  Fouque ;  and  the  circumstances  which  led 
him  to  undertake  the  task,  are  described  by  himself  in  a 
Dedicatory  Poem  to  the  Empress  of  Russia,  which  he 
has  prefixed  to  his  translation.  As  soon  as  the  perform- 
ance, he  tells  us,  had  ended,  Lalla  Rookh  (the  Empress 
herself)  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh,  "Is  it,  then,  all  over? 
Are  we  now  at  the  close  of  all  that  has  given  us  so 
much  delight  ?  and  lives  there  no  poet  who  will  impart 

*  Since  this  was  written,  another  translation  of  Lalla  Rookh 
into  German  verse  has  been  made  by  Theodor  Oelckers  (Leipzig, 


to  others,  and  to  future  times,  some  notion  of  the  happi- 
ness we  have  enjoyed  this  evening  ?  "  On  hearing  this 
appeal  a  Knight  of  Cashmere  (who  is  no  other  than  the 
poetical  Baron  himself)  comes  forward  and  promises  to 
attempt  to  present  to  the  world  "  the  Poem  itself  in  the 
measure  of  the  original :  "  —  whereupon  Lalla  Kookh,  it 
is  added,  approvingly  smiled. 


Ix  the  eleventh  year  of  the  reign  of  Aurungzebe,  Ab- 
dalla,  King  of  the  Lesser  Bucharia,  a  lineal  descendant 
from  the  Great  Zingis,  having  abdicated  the  throne  in 
favor  of  his  son,  set  out  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Shrine 
of  the  Prophet;  and,  passing  into  India  through  the 
delightful  valley  of  Cashmere,  rested  for  a  short  time  at 
Delhi  on  his  way.  He  was  entertained  by  Aurungzebe 
in  a  style  of  magnificent  hospitality,  worthy  alike  of  the 
visitor  and  the  host,  and  was  afterwards  escorted  with 
the  same  splendor  to  Surat,  where  he  embarked  for 
Arabia.1  During  the  stay  of  the  Royal  Pilgrim  at  Delhi, 
a  marriage  was  agreed  upon  between  the  Prince,  his  son, 
and  the  youngest  daughter  of  the  emperor,  LALLA. 
ROOKH ;2 —  a  Princess  described  by  the  Poets  of  her 
time  as  more  beautiful  than  Leila,8  Shirine,4  Dewilde,6  or 
any  of  those  heroines  whose  names  and  loves  embellish 
the  songs  of  Persia  and  Hindostan.  It  was  intended 
that  the  nuptuals  should  be  celebrated  at  Cashmere; 
where  the  young  King,  as  soon  as  the  cares  of  empire 
would  (HTinit,  was  to  meet,  for  the  first  time,  his  lovely 
bride,  and,  after  a  few  months'  repose  in  that  enchanting 
valley,  conduct  her  over  the  snowy  hills  into  Bucharia. 

The  day  of  LALLA  ROOK  it's  departure  from  Delhi  was 
as  splendid  as  sunshine  and  pageantry  could  make  it. 
The  bazaars  and  baths  were  all  covered  with  the  richest 



tapestry;  hundreds  of  gilded  barges  upon  the  Jumna 
floated  with  their  banners  shining  in  the  water ;  while 
through  the  streets  groups  of  beautiful  children  went 
strewing  the  most  delicious  flowers  around,  as  in  that 
Persian  festival  called  the  Scattering  of  the  Eoses ; 6  till 
every  part  of  the  city  was  as  fragrant  as  if  a  caravan  of 
musk  from  Khoten  had  passed  through  it.  The  Princess, 
having  taken  leave  of  her  kind  father,  who  at  parting 
hung  a  cornelian  of  Yemen  round  her  neck,  on  which 
was  inscribed  a  verse  from  the  Koran,  and  having  sent 
a  considerable  present  to  the  Fakirs,  who  kept  up  the 
Perpetual  Lamp  in  her  sister's  tomb,  meekly  ascended 
the  palankeen  prepared  for  her ;  and,  while  Aurungzebe 
stood  to  take  a  last  look  from  his  balcony,  the  procession 
moved  slowly  on  the  road  to  Lahore. 

Seldom  had  the  Eastern  world  seen  a  cavalcade  so 
superb.  From  the  gardens  in  the  suburbs  to  the  Impe- 
rial palace,  it  was  one  unbroken  line  of  splendor.  The 
gallant  appearance  of  the  Rajahs  and  Mogul  Lords,  dis- 
tinguished by  those  insignia  of  the  Emperor's  favor,7  the 
feathers  of  the  egret  of  Cashmere  in  their  turbans,  and 
the  small  silver-rimmed  kettledrums  at  the  bows  of  their 
saddles ;  —  the  costly  armor  of  their  cavaliers,  who  vied, 
on  this  occasion,  with  the  guards  of  the  great  Keder 
Khan,8  in  the  brightness  of  their  silver  battle-axes  and 
the  massiness  of  their  maces  of  gold ;  —  the  glittering 
of  the  gilt  pine-apples 9  on  the  tops  of  the  palankeens ; 

—  the  embroidered  trappings  of  the  elephants,  bearing 
on  their  backs  small  turrets,  in  the  shape  of  little  antique 
temples,  within  which  the  Ladies  of  LALLA  ROOKH  lay 
as   it  were  enshrined;  —  the   rose-colored   veils   of  the 
Princess's  own  sumptuous  litter,10  at  the  front  of  which 
a  fair  young  female  slave  sat  fanning  her  through  the 
curtains,  with  feathers  of  the  Argus  pheasant's  wing;11 

—  and  the  lovely  troop  of   Tartarian   and  Cashmerian 

LALLA   nOOKH.  23 

maids  of  honor,  whom  the  young  King  had  sent  to  ac- 
company his  bride,  and  who  rode  on  each  side  of  the 
litter,  upon  small  Arabian  horses:  —  all  was  brilliant, 
tasteful,  and  magnificent,  and  pleased  even  the  critical 
and  fastidious  FADLADEEX,  Great  Nazir  or  Chamberlain 
of  the  Haram,  who  was  borne  in  his  palankeen  imme- 
diately after  the  Princess,  and  considered  himself  not  the 
least  important  personage  of  the  pageant. 

FADLADEEN  was  a  judge  of  everything,  —  from  the 
pencilling  of  a  Circassian's  eyelids  to  the  deepest  ques- 
tions of  science  and  literature ;  from  the  mixture  of  a 
conserve  of  rose-leaves  to  the  composition  of  an  epic 
poem :  and  such  influence  had  his  opinion  upon  the  vari- 
ous tastes  of  the  day,  that  all  the  cooks  and  poets  of 
Delhi  stood  in  awe  of  him.  His  political  conduct  and 
opinions  were  founded  upon  that  line  of  Sadi,  —  "Should 
the  Prince  at  noon-day  say,  It  is  night,  declare  that  you 
behold  the  moon  and  stars."  —  And  his  zeal  for  religion, 
of  which  Aurungzebe  was  a  munificent  protector,13  was 
about  as  disinterested  as  that  of  the  goldsmith  who  fell  in 
love  with  the  diamond  eyes  of  the  Idol  of  Jaghernaut.18 

During  the  first  days  of  their  journey,  LALLA  ROOKH, 
who  had  passed  all  her  life  within  the  shadow  of  the 
Royal  Gardens  of  Delhi,14  found  enough  in  the  beauty 
of  the  scenery  through  which  they  passed  to  interest  her 
mind,  and  delight  her  imagination  ;  and  when  at  evening 
or  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  they  turned  off  from  the  high 
road  to  those  retired  and  romantic  places  which  had  been 
selected  for  her  encampments,  sometimes  on  the  banks 
of  a  small  rivulet,  as  clear  as  the  waters  of  the  Lake  of 
Pearl;14  sometimes  under  the  sacred  shade  of  a  Banyan 
tree,  from  which  the  view  ojw'ned  upon  a  glade  covered 
with  antelopes;  and  often  in  those  hidden,  embowered 


spots,  described  by  one  from  the  Isles  of  the  West,16  as 
"  places  of  melancholy,  delight,  and  safety,  where  all  the 
company  around  were  wild  peacocks  and  turtle-doves  ;  " 
—  she  felt  a  charm  in  these  scenes,  so  lovely  and  so  new 
to  her,  which,  for  a  time,  made  her  indifferent  to  every 
other  amusement.  But  LALLA  EOOKH  was  young,  and 
the  young  love  variety ;  nor  could  the  conversation  of 
her  Ladies  and  the  Great  Chamberlain,  FADLADEEN  (the 
only  persons  of  course  admitted  to  her  pavilion),  suf- 
ficiently enliven  those  many  vacant  hours,  which  were 
devoted  neither  to  the  pillow  nor  the  palankeen.  There 
was  a  little  Persian  slave  who  sung  sweetly  to  the  Vina, 
and  who,  now  and  then,  lulled  the  Princess  to  sleep  with 
the  ancient  ditties  of  her  country,  about  the  loves  of 
Wamak  and  Ezra,17  the  fair-haired  Zal  and  his  mistress 
Eodahver ; 18  not  forgetting  the  combat  of  Rustam  with 
the  terrible  White  Demon.19  At  other  times  she  was 
amused  by  those  graceful  dancing-girls  of  Delhi,  who  had 
been  permitted  by  the  Bramins  of  the  Great  Pagoda  to 
attend  her,  much  to  the  horror  of  the  good  Mussulman 
FADLADEEN,  who  could  see  nothing  graceful  or  agreeable 
in  idolaters,  and  to  whom  the  very  tinkling  of  their 
golden  anklets 20  was  an  abomination. 

But  these  and  many  other  diversions  were  repeated  till 
they  lost  all  their  charm,  and  the  nights  and  noon-days 
were  beginning  to  move  heavily,  when,  at  length,  it  was 
recollected  that,  among  the  attendants  sent  by  the  bride- 
groom, was  a  young  poet  of  Cashmere,  much  celebrated 
throughout  the  valley  for  his  manner  of  reciting  the 
Stories  of  the  East,  on  whom  his  Royal  Master  had  con- 
ferred the  privilege  of  being  admitted  to  the  pavilion 
of  the  Princess,  that  he  might  help  to  beguile  the 
tediousness  of  the  journey  by  some  of  his  agreeable 
recitals.  At  the  mention  of  a  poet,  FADLADEEN  ele- 


vated  his  critical  eyebrows,  and,  having  refreshed  his 
faculties  with  a  dose  of  that  delicious  opium 21  which  is 
distilled  from  the  black  poppy  of  the  Thebais,  gave 
orders  for  the  minstrel  to  be  forthwith  introduced  into 
the  presence. 

The  Princess,  who  had  once  in  her  life  seen  a  poet 
from  behind  the  screens  of  gauze  in  her  Father's  hall,  and 
had  conceived  from  that  specimen  no  very  favorable  ideas 
of  the  Caste,  expected  but  little  in  this  new  exhibition 
to  interest  her ;  —  she  felt  inclined,  however,  to  alter  her 
opinion  on  the  very  first  appearance  of  FERAMOKZ.  He 
was  a  youth  about  LALLA  KOOKH'S  own  age,  and  graceful 
as  that  idol  of  women,  Crislma,22  —  such  as  he  appears  to 
their  young  imaginations,  heroic,  beautiful,  breathing 
music  from  his  very  eyes,  and  exalting  the  religion  of 
his  worshippers  into  love.  His  dress  was  simple,  yet  not 
without  some  marks  of  costliness ;  and  the  ladies  of  the 
Princess  were  not  long  in  discovering  that  the  cloth 
which  encircled  his  high  Tartarian  cap  was  of  the  most 
delicate  kind  that  the  shawl-goats  of  Tibet  supply.28 
Here  and  there,  too,  over  his  vest,  which  was  confined  by 
a  flowered  girdle  of  Kashan,  hung  strings  of  tine  pearl, 
disposed  with  an  air  of  studied  negligence  :  —  nor  did  the 
exquisite  embroidery  of  his  sandals  escape  the  observa- 
tion of  these  fair  critics;  who,  however  they  might  give 
way  to  FADLADEEX  upon  the  unimportant  topics  of  re- 
ligion and  government,  had  the  spirit  of  martyrs  in 
everything  relating  to  such  momentous  matters  as  jewels 
and  embroidery. 

For  the  purpose  of  relieving  the  pauses  of  recitation 
by  music,  the  young  Cashmerian  held  in  his  hand  a  kitar; 
—  such  as,  in  old  times,  the  Arab  maids  of  the  West  used 
to  listen  to  by  moonlight  in  the  gardens  of  the  Alham- 


bra  —  and  having  premised,  with  much  humility,  that  the 
story  he  was  about  to  relate  was  founded  on  the  adven- 
tures of  that  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan 24  who,  in  the 
year  of  the  Hegira  163,  created  such  alarm  throughout 
the  Eastern  Empire,  made  an  obeisance  to  the  Princess, 
and  thus  began :  — 


IN  that  delightful  Province  of  the  Sun, 

The  first  of  Persian  lands  he  shines  upon, 

Where  all  the  loveliest  children  of  his  beam, 

Flow'rets  and  fruits,  blush  over  every  stream,28 

And,  fairest  of  all  streams,  the  MURGA  roves 

Among  MEKOU'S"  bright  palaces  and  groves;  — 

There  on  that  throne,  to  which  the  blind  belief 

Of  millions  rais'd  him,  sat  the  Prophet-Chief, 

The  Great  MOKAXNA.     O'er  his  features  hung 

The  Veil,  the  Silver  Veil,  which  he  had  flung 

In  mercy  there,  to  hide  from  mortal  sight 

His  dazzling  brow,  till  man  could  bear  its  light. 

For,  far  less  luminous,  his  votaries  said, 

Were  ev'n  the  gleams,  miraculously  shed 

O'er  MoussA's28  cheek,29  when  down  the  Mount  he 

All  glowing  from  the  presence  of  his  God ! 

On  either  side,  with  ready  hearts  and  hands, 
His  chosen  guard  of  bold  Believers  stands ; 
Young  fire-eyed  disputants,  who  deem  their  swords, 
On  points  of  faith,  more  eloquent  than  words  ; 
And  such  their  zeal,  there's  not  a  youth  with  brand 
Uplifted  there,  but,  at  the  Chiefs  command, 
Would  make  his  own  devoted  heart  its  sheath, 
And  bless  the  lij-s  that  dooiu'd  so  dear  a  death  1 
In  hatred  to  the  Caliph's  hue  of  night,80 


Their  vesture,  helms  and  all,  is  snowy  white ; 

Their  weapons  various  —  some  equipp'd  for  speed, 

"With  javelins  of  the  light  Kathaian  reed ; 81 

Or  bows  of  buffalo  horn  and  shining  quivers 

Fill'd  with  the  stems 3-  that  bloom  on  IRAN'S  rivers ; 88 

While  some,  for  war's  more  terrible  attacks, 

Wield  the  huge  mace  and  ponderous  battle-axe ; 

And  as  they  wave  aloft  in  morning's  beam 

The  milk-white  plumage  of  their  helms,  they  seem 

Like  a  chenar-tree  grove,8*  when  winter  throws 

O'er  all  its  tufted  heads  his  feathering  snows. 

Between  the  porphyry  pillars,  that  uphold 
The  rich  moresque-work  of  the  roof  of  gold, 
Aloft  the  Haram's  curtain'd  galleries  rise, 
Where,  through  the  silken  network,  glancing  eyes, 
From  time  to  time,  like  sudden  gleams  that  glow 
Through  autumn  clouds,  shine  o'er  the  pomp  below.  — . 
What  impious  tongue,  ye  blushing  saints,  would  dare 
To  hint  that  aught  but  Heaven  hath  placed  you  there  ? 
Or  that  the  loves  of  this  light  world  could  bind, 
In  their  gross  chain,  your  Prophet's  soaring  mind  ? 
No  —  wrongful  thought !  —  commissioned  from  above 
To  people  Eden's  bowers  with  shapes  of  love, 
(Creatures  so  bright,  that  the  same  lips  and  eyes 
They  wear  on  earth  will  serve  in  Paradise,) 
There  to  recline  among  Heaven's  native  maids, 
And  crown  the  Elect  with  bliss  that  never  fades  — 
Well  hath  the  Prophet-Chief  his  bidding  done ; 
And  every  beauteous  race  beneath  the  sun, 
From  those  who  kneel  at  Brahma's  burning  founts,35 
To  the  fresh  nymphs  bounding  o'er  YEMEN'S  mounts  j 
From  PERSIA'S  eyes  of  full  and  fawn-like  ray 
To  the  small,  half-shut  glances  of  KATHAY  ; 86 
And  GEORGIA'S  bloom,  and  AZAB'S  darker  smiles, 


And  the  gold  ringlets  of  the  Western  Isles ; 

All,  all  are  there ;  —  each  Land  its  flower  hath  given, 

To  form  that  fair  young  Nursery  for  Heaven  ! 

But  why  this  pageant  now  ?   this  arm'd  array  ? 
What  triumph  crowds  the  rich  Divan  to-day 
With  turban'd  heads,  of  every  hue  and  race, 
Bowing  before  that  veil'd  and  awful  face, 
Like  tulip-beds,87  of  different  shape  and  dyes, 
Bending  beneath  the  invisible  West-wind's  sighs  ! 
What  new-made  mystery  now,  for  Faith  to  sign, 
And  blood  to  seal,  as  genuine  and  divine, 
What  dazzling  mimicry  of  God's  own  power 
Hath  the  bold  Prophet  plann'd  to  grace  this  hour  ? 

Not  such  the  pageant  now,  though  not  less  proud  j 
Yon  warrior  youth,  advancing  from  the  crowd, 
With  silver  bow,  with  belt  of  broider'd  crape, 
And  fur-bound  bonnet  of  Buchanan  shape,88 
So  fiercely  beautiful  in  form  and  eye, 
Like  war's  wild  planet  in  a  summer  sky  ; 
That  youth  to-day  —  a  proselyte,  worth  hordes 
Of  cooler  spirits  and  less  practised  swords  — 
Is  come  to  join,  all  bravery  and  belief, 
The  creed  and  standard  of  the  heaven-sent  Chief. 

Though  few  his  years,  the  West  already  knows 
Young  AZIM'S  fame;  —  beyond  the  Olympian  snows, 
Ere  manhood  darken'd  o'er  his  downy  cheek, 
O'erwhelm'd  in  fight  and  captive  to  the  Greek,89 
He  linger'd  there,  till  peace  dissolv'd  his  chains;  — 
Oh,  who  could,  even  in  bondage,  tread  the  plains 
Of  glorious  GKKKCK,  nor  feel  his  spirit  rise 
Kindling  within  him  ?    who,  with  heart  and  eyes, 
Could  walk  where  Liberty  had  Ix-en,  nor  see 


The  shining  footprints  of  her  Deity, 

Nor  feel  those  godlike  breathings  in  the  air, 

Which  mutely  told  her  spirit  had  been  there  ? 

Not  he,  that  youthful  warrior,  —  no,  too  well 

For  his  som's  quiet  work'd  the  awakening  spell ; 

And  now,  returning  to  his  own  dear  land, 

Full  of  those  dreams  of  good  that,  vainly  grand, 

Haunt  the  young  heart,  —  proud  views  of  human-kind, 

Of  men  to  Gods  exalted  and  refined,  — 

False  views,  like  that  horizon's  fair  deceit, 

Where  earth  and  heaven  but  seem,  alas,  to  meet !  — 

Soon  as  he  heard  an  Arm  Divine  was  rais'd 

To  right  the  nations,  and  beheld,  emblaz'd 

On  the  white  flag  MOKANNA'S  host  unfurl'd, 

Those  words  of  sunshine,  "  Freedom  to  the  World," 

At  once  his  faith,  his  sword,  his  soul  obey'd 

The  inspiring  summons ;  every  chosen  blade 

That  fought  beneath  that  banner's  sacred  text 

Seem'd  doubly  edg'd,  for  this  world  and  the  next ; 

And  ne'er  did  Faith  with  her  smooth  bandage  bind 

Eyes  more  devoutly  willing  to  be  blind, 

In  virtue's  cause  ;  —  never  was  soul  inspir'd 

With  livelier  trust  in  what  it  most  desir'd, 

Than  his,  the  enthusiast  there,  who  kneeling,  pale 

With  pious  awe,  before  that  Silver  Veil, 

Believes  the  form,  to  which  he  bends  his  knee, 

Some  pure,  redeeming  angel,  sent  to  free 

This  fetter'd  world  from  every  bond  and  stain, 

And  bring  its  primal  glories  back  again ! 

Low  as  young  AZIM  knelt,  that  motley  crowd 
Of  all  earth's  nations  sunk  the  knee  and  bow'd, 
With  shouts  of  "  ALLA  ! "  echoing  long  and  loud ; 
While  high  in  air,  above  the  Prophet's  head, 
Hundreds  of  banners,  to  the  sunbeam  spread, 


Wav'd,  like  the  wings  of  the  white  birds  that  fan 

The  flying  throne  of  star-taught  SOLIMAN.*° 

Then  thus  he  spoke :  — "  Stranger,  though  new  the 


Thy  soul  inhabits  now,  I've  track'd  its  flame 
For  many  an  age,41  in  every  chance  and  change 
Of  that  existence,  through  whose  varied  range,  — 
As  through  a  torch-race,  where,  from  hand  to  hand, 
The  flying  youths  transmit  their  shining  brand,  — 
From  frame  to  frame  the  unextinguish'd  soul 
Rapidly  passes,  till  it  reach  the  goal ! 

"  Nor  think  'tis  only  the  gross  Spirits,  warm'd 
With  duskier  tire  and  for  earth's  medium  form'd, 
That  run  this  course; — Beings,  the  most  divine, 
Thus  deign  through  dark  mortality  to  shine. 
Such  was  the  Essence  that  in  ADAM  dwelt, 
To  which  all  Heaven,  except  the  Proud  One,  knelt : 42 
Such  the  refin'd  Intelligence  that  glow'd 
In  MOUSSA'S*'  frame,  —  and,  thence  descending,  flow'd 
Through  many  a  Prophet's  breast ; 44  —  in  ISSA  46  shone, 
And  in  MOHAMMED  burn'd;  till,  hastening  on, 
(As  a  bright  river  that,  from  fall  to  fall 
In  many  a  maze  descending,  bright  through  all, 
Finds  some  fair  region  where,  each  labyrinth  past, 
In  one  full  lake  of  light  it  rests  at  last !) 
That  Holy  Spirit,  settling  calm  and  free 
From  lapse  or  shadow,  centres  all  in  me ! " 

Again,  throughout  the  assembly,  at  these  words. 
Thousands  of  voices  rung :  the  warriors'  swords 
Were  ]>ointed  up  to  heaven  ;  a  sudden  wind 
In  the  open  banners  play'd,  and  from  behind 
Those  Persian  hangings,  that  but  ill  could  screen 
The  Haram's  loveliness,  white  hands  were  seen 


Waving  embroider'd  scarves,  whose  motion  gave 
A  perfume  forth  ;  —  like  those  the  Houris  wave 
When  beck'ning  to  their  bowers  the  immortal  Brave. 

"  But  these,"  pursued  the  Chief,  "  are  truths  sublime, 
That  claim  a  holier  mood  and  calmer  time 
Than  earth  allows  us  now ;  —  this  sword  must  first 
The  darkling  prison-house  of  Mankind  burst 
Ere  Peace  can  visit  them,  or  Truth  let  in 
Her  wakening  daylight  on  a  world  of  sin. 
But  then,  celestial  warriors,  then,  when  all 
Earth's  shrines  and  thrones  before  our  banner  fall ; 
When  the  glad  Slave  shall  at  these  feet  lay  down 
His  broken  chain,  the  tyrant  Lord  his  crown, 
The  Priest  kis  book,  the  Conqueror  his  wreath, 
And  from  the  lips  of  Truth  one  mighty  breath 
Shall,  like  a  whirlwind,  scatter  in  its  breeze 
That  whole  dark  pile  of  human  mockeries ;  — 
Then  shall  the  reign  of  mind  commence  on  earth, 
And  starting  fresh,  as  from  a  second  birth, 
Man,  in  the  sunshine  of  the  world's  new  spring, 
Shall  walk. transparent,  like  some  holy  thing! 
Then,  too,  your  Prophet  from  his  angel  brow 
Shall  cast  the  Veil  that  hides  its  splendors  now, 
And  gladden'd  Earth  shall,  through  her  wide  expanse. 
Bask  in  the  glories  of  this  coiintenance  ! 
For  thee,  young  warrior,  welcome !  —  thou  hast  yet 
Some  tasks  to  learn,  some  frailties  to  forget, 
Ere  the  white  war-plume  o'er  thy  brow  can  wave ;  — 
But,  once  my  own,  mine  all  till  in  the  grave ! " 

The  pomp  is  at  an  end  —  the  crowds  are  gone  — 
Each  ear  and  heart  still  haunted  by  the  tone 
Of  that  deep  voice,  which  thrill'd  like  ALLA'S  own  ! 
The  Young  all  dazzled  by  the  plumes  and  lances, 


The  glittering  throne,  and  Harara's  half-caught  glances ; 
The  Old  deep  pondering  on  the  promis'd  reign 
Of  peace  and  truth ;  and  all  the  female  train 
Keady  to  risk  their  eyes,  could  they  but  gaze 
A  moment  on  that  brow's  miraculous  blaze  ! 

But  there  was  one,  among  the  chosen  maids, 
Who  blush'd  behind  the  gallery's  silken  shades, 
One,  to  whose  soul  the  pageant  of  to-day 
Has  been  like  death :  — you  saw  her  pale  dismay, 
Ye  wondering  sisterhood,  and  heard  the  burst 
Of  exclamation  from  her  lips,  when  first 
She  saw  that  youth,  too  well,  too  dearly  known, 
Silently  kneeling  at  the  Prophet's  throne. 

Ah  ZELICA  !  there  was  a  time,  when  bliss 
Shone  o'er  thy  heart  from  every  look  of  his ; 
When  but  to  see  him,  hear  him,  breathe  the  air 
In  which  he  dwelt,  was  thy  soul's  fondest  prayer; 
When  round  him  hung  such  a  perpetual  spell, 
Whate'er  he  did  none  ever  did  so  well. 
Too  happy  days  !   when,  if  he  touch' d  a  flower 
Or  gem  of  thine,  'twas  sacred  from  that  hour ; 
When  thou  didst  study  him  till  every  tone 
And  gesture  and  dear  look  became  thy  own,  — 
Thy  voice  like  his,  the  changes  of  his  face 
In  thine  reflected  with  still  lovelier  grace: 
Like  echo,  sending  back  sweet  music,  fraught 
With  twice  the  aerial  sweetness  it  had  brought ! 
Yet  now  he  comes,  —  brighter  than  even  he 
E'er  IwamM  before,  —  but,  ah  !  not  bright  for  thee; 
No  —  dread,  unlook'd  for,  like  a  visitant 
From  the  other  world,  he  comes  as  if  to  haunt 
Thy  guilty  soul  with  dreams  of  lost  delight, 
Long  lost  to  all  but  memory's  aching  sight:  — 


Sad  dreams  !  as  when  the  Spirit  of  our  Youth 
Returns  in  sleep,  sparkling  with  all  the  truth 
And  innocence  once  ours,  and  leads  us  back, 
In  mournful  mockery,  o'er  the  shining  track 
Of  our  young  life,  and  points  out  every  ray 
Of  hope  and  peace  we've  lost  upon  the  way ! 

Once  happy  pair ;  —  in  proud  BOKHARA'S  groves, 
Who  had  not  heard  of  their  first  youthful  loves  ? 
Born  by  that  ancient  flood,46  which  from  its  spring 
In  the  dark  Mountains  swiftly  wandering, 
Enrich'd  by  every  pilgrim  brook  that  shines 
With  relics  from  BUCIIARIA'S  ruby  mines, 
And  lending  to  the  CASPIAN  half  its  strength, 
In  the  cold  Lake  of  Eagles  sinks  at  length ;  — 
There,  on  the  banks  of  that  bright  river  born, 
The  flowers,  that  hung  above  its  wave  at  morn, 
Bless'd  not  the  waters,  as  they  murmur'd  by, 
With  holier  scent  and  lustre,  than  the  sigh 
And  virgin-glance  of  first  affection  cast 
Upon  their  youth's  smooth  current,  as  it  pass'd ! 
But  war  disturb'd  this  vision,  —  far  away 
From  her  fond  eyes  summon'd  to  join  the  array 
Of  PERSIA'S  warriors  on  the  hills  of  THRACE, 
The  youth  exchang'd  his  sylvan  dwelling-place 
For  the  rude  tent  and  war-field's  deathful  clash ; 
His  ZELICA'S  sweet  glances  for  the  flash 
Of  Grecian  wild-fire,  and  Love's  gentle  chains 
For  bleeding  bondage  on  BYZANTIUM'S  plains. 

Month  after  month,  in  widowhood  of  soul 
Drooping,  the  maiden  saw  two  summers  roll 
Their  suns  away  —  but  ah !  how  cold  and  dim 
Even  summer  suns,  when  not  beheld  with  him ! 
From  time  to  time  ill-oinen'd  rumors  came, 


Like  spirit-tongues  mutt'ring  the  sick  man's  name, 
Just  ere  he  dies :  —  at  length  those  sounds  of  dread 
Fell  withering  on  her  soul,  "  AZIM  is  dead ! " 
Oh  Grief,  beyond  all  other  griefs,  when  fate 
First  leaves  the  young  heart  lone  and  desolate 
In  the  wide  world,  without  that  only  tie 
For  which  it  lov'd  to  live  or  fear'd  to  die ;  — 
Lorn  as  the  hung-up  lute,  that  ne'er  hath  spoken 
Since  the  sad  day  its  master-chord  was  broken ! 
Fond  maid,  the  sorrow  of  her  soul  was  such, 
Even  reason  sunk, — blighted  beneath  its  touch: 
And  though,  ere  long,  her  sanguine  spirit  rose 
Above  the  first  dead  pressure  of  its  woes, 
Though  health  and  bloom  return'd,  the  delicate  chain 
Of  thought,  once  tangled,  never  clear'd  again. 
Warm,  lively,  soft  as  in  youth's  happiest  day, 
The  mind  was  still  all  there,  but  turn'd  astray ;  — 
A  wand'ring  bark,  upon  whose  pathway  shone 
All  stars  of  heaven,  except  the  guiding  one  ! 
Again  she  smil'd,  nay,  much  and  brightly  smil'd, 
But  'twas  a  lustre,  strange,  unreal,  wild; 
And  when  she  sung  to  her  lute's  touching  strain, 
Twas  like  the  notes,  half  ecstasy,  half  pain, 
The  bulbul47  utters,  ere  her  soul  depart, 
When,  vanquished  by  some  minstrel's  powerful  art, 
She  dies   upon  the  lute  whose  sweetness  broke  her 
heart ! 

Such  was  the  mood  in  which  that  mission  found 
Young  ZKUCA, — that  mission,  which  around 
The  Eastern  world,  in  every  region  blest 
With  woman's  smile,  sought  out  its  loveliest, 
To  grace  that  galaxy  of  lips  and  eyes 
Which  the  Veil'd  Prophet  destin'd  for  the  skies :  — 
And  such  quick  welcome  as  a  spark  receives 


Dropp'd  on  a  bed  of  Autumn's  wither'd  leaves, 

Did  every  tale  of  these  enthusiasts  find 

In  the  Avild  maiden's  sorrow-blighted  mind. 

All  fire  at  once  the  madd'ning  zeal  she  caught ;  — 

Elect  of  Paradise  !  blest,  rapturous  thought ! 

Predestin'd  bride,  in  heaven's  eternal  dome, 

Of  some  brave  youth  —  ha !  durst  they  say  "  of  some  ?  " 

No  —  of  the  one,  one  only  object  trac'd 

In  her  heart's  core  too  deep  to  be  effac'd ; 

The  one  whose  memory,  fresh  as  life,  is  twin'd 

With  every  broken  link  of  her  lost  mind ; 

Whose  image  lives,  though  Keason's  self  be  wreck'd, 

Safe  'mid  the  ruins  of  her  intellect ! 

Alas,  poor  ZELICA  !  it  needed  all 
The  fantasy  which  held  thy  mind  in  thrall, 
To  see  in  that  gay  Haram's  glowing  maids 
A  sainted  colony  for  Eden's  shades ; 
Or  dream  that  he,  —  of  whose  unholy  flame 
Thou  wert  too  soon  the  victim,  —  shining  came 
From  Paradise,  to  people  its  pure  sphere 
With  souls  like  thine,  which  he  hath  ruin'd  here ! 
No  —  had  not  Reason's  light  totally  set, 
And  left  thee  dark,  thou  hadst  an  amulet 
In  the  lov'd  image,  graven  on  thy  heart, 
Which  would  have   sav'd  thee   from  the  tempter's 


And  kept  alive,  in  all  its  bloom  of  breath, 
That  purity,  whose  fading  is  love's  death !  — 
But  lost,  inflamed,  —  a  restless  zeal  took  place 
Of  the  mild  virgin's  still  and  feminine  grace ; 
First  of  the  Prophet's  favorites,  —  proudly  first 
In  zeal  and  charms,  —  too  well  the  Impostor  nurs'd 
Her  soul's  delirium,  in  whose  active  flame, 
Thus  lighting  up  a  young,  luxuriant  frame, 


He  saw  more  potent  sorceries  to  bind 

To  his  dark  yoke  the  spirits  of  mankind, 

More  subtle  chains  than  hell  itself  e'er  twin'd. 

No  art  was  spar'd,  no  witchery ;  —  all  the  skill 

His  demons  taught  him  was  employ'd  to  fill 

Her  mind  with  gloom  and  ecstasy  by  turns  — 

That  gloom,  through  which  Frenzy  but  fiercer  burns ; 

That  ecstasy,  which  from  the  depth  of  sadness 

Glares  like  the  maniac's  moon,  whose  light  is  madness. 

'Twas  from  a  brilliant  banquet,  where  the  sound 
Of  poesy  and  music  breath'd  around, 
Together  picturing  to  her  mind  and  ear 
The  glories  of  that  heaven,  her  destin'd  sphere, 
Where  all  was  pure,  where  every  stain  that  lay 
Upon  the  spirit's  light  should  pass  away, 
And,  realizing  more  than  youthful  love 
E'er  wish'd  or  dream'd,  she  should  forever  rove 
Through  fields  of  fragrance  by  her  AZIM'S  side, 
His  own  bless'd,  purified,  eternal  bride !  — 
'Twas  from  a  scene,  a  witching  trance  like  this, 
He  hurried  her  away,  yet  breathing  bliss, 
To  the  dim  charnel-house ;  —  through  all  its  steams 
Of  damp  and  death,  led  only  by  those  gleams 
Which  foul  Corruption  lights,  as  with  design 
To  show  the  gay  and  proud,  she  too  can  shine !  — 
And,  passing  on  through  upright  ranks  of  Dead, 
Which  to  the  maiden,  doubly  craz'd  by  dread, 
Seem'd,  through  the  bluish  death-light    round  them 


To  move  their  lips  in  mutterings  as  she  pass'd  — 
There,  in  that  awful  place,  when  each  had  quaffd 
And  pledg'd  in  silence  such  a  fearful  draught, 
Such  —  oil!  the  look  and  taste  of  that  red  tx>wl 
Will  haunt  her  till  she  dies  —  he  bound  her  soul 


By  a  dark  oath,  in  hell's  own  language  fram'd, 
Never,  while  earth  his  mystic  presence  claim' d, 
While  the  blue  arch  of  day  hung  o'er  them  both, 
Never,  by  that  all-imprecating  oath, 
In  joy  or  sorrow  from  his  side  to  sever.  — 

She  swore,  and  the  wide  charnel  echoed,  "Never, 
never ! 

From  that  dread  hour,  entirely,  wildly  given 
To  him  and  —  she  belie v'd,  lost  maid!  —  to  Heaven, 
Her  brain,  her  heart,  her  passions  all  inflam'd, 
How  proud  she  stood,  when  in  full  Haram  nam'd 
The  Priestess  of  the  Faith !  —  how  flash'd  her  eyes 
With  light,  alas  !  that  was  not  of  the  skies, 
When  round,  in  trances,  only  less  than  hers, 
She  saw  the  Haram  kneel,  her  prostrate  worshippers ! 
Well  might  MOKANNA  think  that  form  alone 
Had  spells  enough  to  make  the  world  his  own :  — 
Light,  lovely  limbs,  to  which  the  spirit's  play 
Gave  motion,  airy  as  the  dancing  spray, 
WTien  from  its  stem  the  small  bird  wings  away : 
Lips  in  whose  rosy  labyrinth,  when  she  smil'd, 
The  soul  was  lost ;  and  blushes,  swift  and  wild 
As  are  the  momentary  meteors  sent 
Across  the  uncalm,  but  beauteous  firmament. 
And  then  her  look  —  oh  !  where's  the  heart  so  wise 
Could  unbewilder'd  meet  those  matchless  eyes  ? 
Quick,  restless,  strange,  but  exquisite  withal, 
Like  those  of  angels,  just  before  their  fall; 
Now  shadow'd  with  the  shames  of  earth  —  now  crost 
By  glimpses  of  the  heaven  her  heart  had  lost ; 
In  ev'ry  glance  there  broke,  without  control, 
The  flashes  of  a  bright  but  troubled  soul, 
Where  sensibility  still  wildly  play'd, 
Like  lightning,  round  the  ruins  it  had  made  1 


And  such  was  now  young  ZELICA  —  so  chang'd 
From  her  who,  some  years  since,  delighted  rang'd 
The  almond  groves  that  shade  BOKHARA'S  tide, 
All  life  and  bliss,  with  AZIM  by  her  side ! 
So  alter'd  was  she  now,  this  festal  day, 
When,  'mid  the  proud  Divan's  dazzling  array, 
The  vision  of  that  Youth  whom  she  had  lov'd, 
Had  wept  as  dead,  before  her  breath'd  and  mov'd ;  — 
When  —  bright,  she  thought,  as  if  from  Eden's  track 
But  half-way  trodden,  he  had  wander'd  back 
Again  to  earth,  glistening  with  Eden's  light  — 
Her  beauteous  AZIM  shone  before  her  sight. 

0  Reason !  who  shall  say  what  spells  renew, 
When  least  we  look  for  it,  thy  broken  clew ! 
Through  what  small  vistas  o'er  the  darken'd  brain 
Thy  intellectual  day -beam  bursts  again  ; 
And  how,  like  forts,  to  which  beleaguerers  win 
Unhop'd-for  entrance  through  some  friend  within, 
One  clear  idea,  waken'd  in  the  breast 
By  memory's  magic,  lets  in  all  the  rest ! 
Would  it  were  thus,  unhappy  girl,  with  thee  ! 
But  though  light  came,  it  came  but  partially ; 
Enough  to  show  the  maze  in  which  thy  sense 
Wander1  d  about,  —  bxit  not  to  guide  it  thence; 
Enough  to  glimmer  o'er  the  yawning  wave, 
But  not  GO  point  the  harbor  winch  might  save. 
Hours  of  delight  and  peace,  long  left  behind, 
With  that  dear  form  came  rushing  oVr  her  mind; 
But,  oh  !  to  think  how  deep  her  soul  had  gone 
In  shame  and  falsehood  since  those  moments  shone; 
And,  then,  her  oath  —  th»-re  madness  lay  again, 
And,  shuddering,  back  she  sunk  into  her  chain 
Of  mental  darkness,  as  if  blest  to  flee 
From  light,  whose  every  glimpse  was  agony ! 


Yet,  one  relief  this  glance  of  former  years 

Brought,   mingled   with   its    pain,  —  tears,  floods  of 


Long  frozen  at  her  heart,  but  now  like  rills 
Let  loose  in  spring-time  from  the  snowy  hills, 
And  gushing  warm,  after  a  sleep  of  frost, 
Through  valleys  where  their  flow  had  long  been  lost. 

Sad  and  subdued,  for  the  first  time  her  frame 
Trembled  with  horror,  when  the  summons  came 
(A  summons  proud  and  rare,  which  all  but  she, 
And  she  till  now,  had  heard  with  ecstasy) 
To  meet  MOKANNA  at  his  place  of  prayer, 
A  garden  oratory,  cool  and  fair, 
By  the  stream's  side,  where  still  at  close  of  day 
The  Prophet  of  the  Veil  retir'd  to  pray ; 
Sometimes  alone  —  but,  oftener  far,  with  one, 
One  chosen  nymph  to  share  his  orison. 

Of  late  none  found  such  favor  in  his  sight 
As  the  young  Priestess ;  and  though,  since  that  night 
When  the  death-caverns  echoed  every  tone 
Of  the  dire  oath  that  made  her  all  his  own, 
The  Impostor,  sure  of  his  infatuate  prize, 
Had,  more  than  once,  thrown  off  his  soul's  disguise, 
And  utter'd  such  unheavenly,  monstrous  things, 
As  even  across  the  desp'rate  wanderings 
Of  a  weak  intellect,  whose  lamp  was  out, 
Threw  startling  shadows  of  dismay  and  doubt ;  — 
Yet  zeal,  ambition,  her  tremendous  vow, 
The  thought,  still  haunting  her,  of  that  bright  brow, 
Whose  blaze,  as  yet  from  mortal  eye  conceal'd, 
Would  soon,  proud  triumph !  be  to  her  reveal'd, 
To  her  alone  ;  —  and  then  the  hope,  most  dear, 
Most  wild  of  all,  that  her  transgression  here 


Was  tut  a  passage  through  earth's  grosser  fire, 

Froiu  which  the  spirit  would  at  last  aspire, 

Even  purer  than  before,  —  as  perfumes  rise 

Through  flame  and  smoke,  most  welcome  to  the  skies -» 

And  that  when  AZIM'S  fond,  divine  embrace 

Should  circle  her  in  heaven,  no  dark'ning  trace 

Would  on  that  bosom  he  once  lov'd  remain, 

But  all  be  bright,  be  pure,  be  his  again !  — 

These  were  the  wildering  dreams,  whose  curst  deceit 

Had  chain'd  her  soul  beneath  the  tempter's  feet, 

And  made  her  think  even  damning  falsehood  sweet. 

But  now  that  Shape,  which  had  appall'd  her  view, 

Th?t  Semblance  —  oh,  how  terrible,  if  true  !  — 

Which  came  across  her  frenzy's  full  career 

With  shock  of  consciousness,  cold,  deep,  severe, 

As  when,  in  northern  seas,  at  midnight  dark, 

An  isle  of  ice  encounters  some  swift  bark, 

And,  startling  all  its  wretches  from  their  sleep, 

By  one  cold  impulse  hurls  them  to  the  deep ;  — 

So  came  that  shock  not  frenzy's  self  could  bear, 

And  waking  up  each  long-lull'd  image  there, 

But  check'd  her  headlong  soul,  to  sink  it  in  despair  I 

Wan  and  dejected,  through  the  evening  dusk, 
She  now  went  slowly  to  that  small  kiosk, 
Where,  pondering  alone  his  impious  schemes, 
MOKAXNA  waited  her — too  rapt  in  dreams 
Of  the  fair-rip'ning  future's  rich  success, 
To  heed  the  sorrow,  pale  and  spiritless, 
That  sat  upon  his  victim's  downcast  brow, 
Or  mark  how  slow  her  step,  how  alterM  now 
From  the  quick,  ardent  Priestess,  whose  light 
Came  like  a  spirit's  o'er  the  unerhoing  ground, — 
From  that  wild  ZKI.ICA,  whose  every  glance 
Was  thrilling  tire,  whose  every  thought  a  trance  I 


Upon  his  couch  the  Veil'd  MOKANNA  lay, 
While  lamps  around  —  not  such  as  lend  their  ray, 
Glimmering  and  cold,  to  those  who  nightly  pray 
In  holy  KooM,48  or  MECCA'S  dim  arcades,  — 
But  brilliant,  soit,  such  lights  as  lovely  maids 
Look  loveliest  in,  shed  their  luxurious  glow 
Upon  his  mystic  Veil's  white  glittering  flow. 
Beside  him,  'stead  of  beads  and  books  of  prayer, 
Which  the  world  fondly  thought  he  mus'd  on  there, 
Stood  vases,  fill'd  with  KISHMEE'S  49  golden  wine, 
And  the  red  weepings  of  the  SHIRAZ  vine ; 
Of  which  his  curtain'd  lips  full  many  a  draught 
Took  zealously,  as  if  each  drop  they  quaff'd, 
Like  ZEMZEM'S  Spring  of  Holiness,50  had  power 
To  freshen  the  soul's  virtues  into  flower ! 
And  still  he  drank  and  ponder'd  —  nor  could  see 
The  approaching  maid,  so  deep  his  reverie ; 
At  length,  with  fiendish  laugh,  like  that  which  broke 
"From  EBLIS  at  the  Fall  of  Man,  he  spoke :  — 
"  Yes,  ye  vile  race,  for  hell's  amusement  given, 
Too  mean  for  earth,  yet  claiming  kin  with  heaven ; 
God's  images,  forsooth  !  —  such  Gods  as  he 
Whom  INDIA  serves,  the  monkey  deity ; 51  — 
Ye  creatures  of  a  breath,  proud  things  of  clay, 
To  whom  if  LUCIFER,  as  grandams  say, 
Refus'd,  though  at  the  forfeit  of  heaven's  light, 
To  bend  in  worship,  LUCIFER  was  right ! 52  — 
Soon  shall  I  plant  this  foot  upon  the  neck 
Of  your  foul  race,  and  without  fear  or  check, 
Luxuriating  in  hate,  avenge  my  shame, 
My  deep-felt,  long-nurst  loathing  of  man's  name ; 
Soon  at  the  head  of  myriads,  blind  and  fierce 
As  hooded  falcons,  through  the  universe 
I'll  sweep  my  dark'ning,  desolating  way, 
Weak  man  my  instrument,  curst  man  my  prey  f 


"  Ye  wise,  ye  learn'd,  who  grope  your  dull  way  on 
By  the  dim  twinkling  gleams  of  ages  gone, 
Like  superstitious  thieves,  who  think  the  light 
From  dead  men's  marrow  guides  them  best  at  night 68  — • 
Ye  shall  have  honors  —  wealth,  —  yes,  Sages,  yes  — 
I  know,  grave  fools,  your  wisdom's  nothingness ; 
Undazzled  it  can  track  yon  starry  sphere, 
But  a  gilt  stick,  a  bauble  blinds  it  here. 
How  I  shall  laugh,  when  trumpeted  along, 
In  lying  speech,  and  still  more  lying  song, 
By  these  learn'd  slaves,  the  meanest  of  the  throng ; 
Their  wits  bought  up,  their  wisdom  shrunk  so  small, 
A  sceptre's  puny  point  can  wield  it  all ! 

"  Ye  too,  believers  of  incredible  creeds, 
Whose  faith  enshrines  the  monsters  which  it  breeds  ; 
Who,  bolder  even  than  NEMROD,  think  to  rise, 
By  nonsense  heap'd  on  nonsense,  to  the  skies ; 
Ye  shall  have  miracles,  ay,  sound  ones  too, 
Seen,  heard,  attested,  ev'ry  thing  —  but  true. 
Your  preaching  zealots,  too  inspir'd  to  seek 
One  grace  of  meaning  for  the  things  they  speak 
Your  martyrs,  ready  to  shed  out  their  blood 
For  truths  too  heavenly  to  be  understood  ; 
And  your  State  Priests,  sole  vendors  of  the  lore 
That  works  salvation;  —  as,  on  AVA'S  shore, 
Where  none  but  priests  are  privileg'd  to  trade 
In  that  best  marble  of  which  (Jods  are  made;84 
They  shall  have  mysteries  —  ay,  precious  stuff 
For  knaves  to  thrive  by  —  mysteries  enough  ; 
Dark,  tangled  doctrines,  dark  as  fraud  can  weave, 
Which  simple  votaries  shall  on  trust  receive, 
While  craftier  feign  belief,  till  they  believe. 
A  Heaven  too  ye  must  have,  ye  lords  of  dust, — 
A  splendid  Paradise,  —  pure  souls,  ye  must : 

14  LALLA   ROOKff. 

That  Prophet  ill  sustains  his  holy  call,    • 

Who  finds  not  heavens  to  suit  the  tastes  of  all  5 

Houris  for  boys,  omniscience  for  sages, 

And  wings  and  glories  for  all  ranks  and  ages. 

Vain  things  !  —  as  lust  or  vanity  inspires, 

The  Heaven  of  each  is  but  what  each  desires, 

And,  soul  or  sense,  whate'er  the  object  be, 

Man  would  be  man  to  all  eternity ! 

So  let  him  —  EBLIS  !  grant  this  crowning  curse, 

But  keep  him  what  he  is,  no  Hell  were  worse." 

"  Oh  my  lost  soul ! "  exclaim'd  the  shuddering  maid, 
Whose  ears  had  drunk  like  poison  all  he  said :  — 
MOK  ANN  A  started  —  not  abash'd,  afraid,  — 
He  knew  no  more  of  fear  than  one  who  dwells 
Beneath  the  tropics  knows  of  icicles  ! 
But,  in  those  dismal  words  that  reach'd  his  ear, 
"  Oh  my  lost  soul !  "   there  was  a  sound  so  drear, 
So  like  that  voice,  among  the  sinful  dead, 
In  which  the  legend  o'er  Hell's  Gate  is  read, 
That,  new  as  'twas  from  her,  whom  nought  could  dim 
Or  sink  till  now,  it  startled  even  him. 

"  Ha,  my  fair  Priestess  ! "  —  thus,  with  ready  wile, 
The  impostor  turn'd  to  greet  her  —  "  thou,  whose  sniila 
Hath  inspiration  in  its  rosy  beam 
Beyond  the  Enthusiast's  hope  or  Prophet's  dream ! 
Light  of  the  faith  !  who  twin'st  religion's  zeal 
So  close  with  love's,  men  know  not  which  they  feel, 
Nor  which  to  sigh  for,  in  their  trance  of  heart, 
The  heaven  thou  preachest  or  the  heaven  thou  art ! 
What  should  I  be  without  thee  ?   without  thee 
How  dull  were  power,  how  joyless  victory  ! 
Though  borne  by  angels,  if  that  smile  of  thine 
Bless'd  not  my  banner,  'twere  but  half  divine. 


But  —  why  so  mournful,  child  ?   those  eyes,  that  shone 

All  life  last  night  —  what !  —  is  their  glory  gone  ? 

Come,  come  —  this  morn's  fatigue  hath  made  them  pale, 

They  want  rekindling  —  suns  themselves  would  fail, 

Did  not  their  comets  bring,  as  I  to  thee, 

From  light's  own  fount  supplies  of  brilliancy. 

Thou  see'st  this  cup  —  no  juice  of  earth  is  here, 

But  the  pure  waters  of  that  upper  sphere, 

Whose  rills  o'er  ruby  beds  ami  topaz  flow, 

Catching  the  gem's  bright  color  as  they  go. 

Nightly  my  Genii  come  and  fill  these  urns  — 

Nay,  drink  —  in  every  drop  life's  essence  burns ; 

'Twill  make  that  soul  all  fire,  those  eyes  all  light  — 

Come,  come,  I  want  thy  loveliest  smiles  to-night :  — 

There  is  a  youth  —  why  start  ?  —  thou  saw'st  him  then ; 

Look'd  he  not  nobly  ?    such  the  godlike  men 

Thou'lt  have  to  woo  thee  in  the  bowers  above ;  — 

Though  he,  I  fear,  hath  thoughts  too  stern  for  love, 

Too  rul'd  by  that  cold  enemy  of  bliss 

The  world  calls  virtue  —  we  must  conquer  this ;  — 

Nay,  shrink  not,  pretty  sage !   'tis  not  for  thee 

To  scan  the  mazes  of  Heaven's  mystery : 

The  steel  must  pass  through  fire,  ere  it  can  yield 

Fit  instruments  for  mighty  hands  to  wield 

This  very  night  I  mean  to  try  the  art 

Of  powerful  beauty  on  that  warrior's  heart. 

All  that  my  Haram  boasts  of  bloom  and  wit, 

Of  skill  and  charms,  most  rai    and  exquisite, 

Shall  tempt  the  boy;  —  young  MIKZALA'S  blue  eyes, 

Whose  sleepy  lid  like  snow  on  violets  lies ; 

AROUYA'S  cheeks,  warm  as  a  spring-day  sun, 

And  lips  that,  like  the  seal  of  SOLOMON', 

Have  magic  in  their  pressure ;  ZKHA'M  lute. 

And  LILLA'S  dancing  feet,  that  gleam  and  shoot 

Rapid  and  white  as  sea-birds  o'er  the  deep  — 


All  shall  combine  their  witching  powers  to  steep 
My  convert's  spirit  in  that  soft'ning  trance, 
From  which  to  heaven  is  but  the  next  advance ; 
That  glowing,  yielding  fusion  of  the  breast, 
On  which  Religion  stamps  her  image  best. 
But  hear  me,  Priestess  !  —  though  each  nymph  of  these 
Hath  some  peculiar,  practis'd  power  to  please, 
Some  glance  or  step  which,  at  the  mirror  tried, 
First  charms  herself,  then  all  the  world  beside ; 
There  still  wants  one,  to  make  the  victory  sure, 
One  who  in  every  look  joins  every  lure ; 
Through  whom  all  beauty's  beams  concentred  pass, 
Dazzling  and  warm,  as  through  love's  burning  glass ; 
Whose  gentle  lips  persuade  without  a  word, 
"Whose  words,  ev'n  when  unmeaning,  are  ador'd, 
Like  inarticulate  breathings  from  a  shrine, 
Which  our  faith  takes  for  granted  are  divine ! 
Such  is  the  nymph  we  wrant,  all  warmth  and  light, 
To  crown  the  rich  temptations  of  to-night : 
Such  the  refin'd  enchantress  that  must  be 
This  hero's  vanquisher,  —  and  thou  art  she  ! " 

With  her  hands  clasp'd,  her  lips  apart  and  pale, 
The  maid  had  stood,  gazing  upon  the  Veil 
From  which  these  words,  like  south  winds  through  a 


Of  Kerzrah  flowers,  came  fill'd  with  pestilence ; 65 
So  boldly  utter'd  too  !  as  if  all  dread 
Of  frowns  from  her,  of  virtuous  frowns,  were  fled, 
And  the  wretch  felt  assur'd  that,  once  plung'd  in, 
Her  woman's  soul  would  know  no  pause  in  sin ! 

At  first,  though  mute  she  listen'd,  like  a  dream 
Seem'd  all  he  said :  nor  could  her  mind,  whose  beam 
As  yet  was  weak,  penetrate  half  his  scheme. 


But  when,  at  length,  he  utter'a,  ••'  Thou  art  she  ! " 

All  flash'd  at  once,  and  shrieking  piteously, 

"  Oh  not  for  worlds ! "  she  cried  —  "  Great  God !  to  whom 

I  once  knelt  innocent,  is  this  my  doom  ? 

Are  all  my  dreams,  my  hopes  of  heavenly  bliss, 

My  purity,  my  pride,  then  come  to  this,  — 

To  live,  the  wanton  of  a  fiend !  to  be 

The  parider  of  his  guilt  —  oh  infamy ! 

And  sunk,  myself,  as  low  as  hell  can  steep 

In  its  hot  flood,  drag  others  down  as  deep ! 

Others  —  ha !  yes  —  that  youth  who  came  to-day  — 

Not  him  I  lov'd  —  not  him  —  oh  !  do  but  say, 

But  swear  to  me  this  moment  'tis  not  he, 

And  I  will  serve,  dark  fiend,  will  worship  even  thee ! " 

"  Beware,  young  raving  thing !  —  in  time  beware, 
Xor  utter  what  I  cannot,  must  not  bear, 
Even  from  thy  lips.     Go  —  try  thy  lute,  thy  voice, 
The  boy  must  feel  their  magic;  —  I  rejoice 
To  see  those  fires,  no  matter  whence  they  rise, 
Once  more  illuming  my  fair  Priestess'  eyes ; 
And  should  the  youth,  whom  soon  those  eyes  shall  warm, 
Indeed  resemble  thy  dead  lover's  form, 
So  much  the  happier  wilt  thou  find  thy  doom, 
As  one  warm  lover,  full  of  life  and  bloom, 
Excels  ten  thousand  cold  ones  in  the  tomb. 
Nay,  nay,  no  frowning,  sweet !  —  those  eyes  were  made 
For  love,  not  an;,er — I  must  be  obey'd." 

"Obey'd! —  'tis  well  —  yes,  I  deserve  it  all  — 
On  me,  on  me  Heaven's  vengeance  cannot  fall 
Too  heavily — but  A/.IM,  brave  and  true 
And  beautiful  — must  fie  l>e  ruin'd  too? 
Must  he  too,  glorious  as  he  is,  bo  driven 
A  renegade  like  me  from  Love  and  Heaven? 


Like  me  ?  —  weak  wretch,  I  wrong  Mm  —  not  like  me ; 
No  —  he's  all  truth  and  strength  and  purity  ! 
Fill  up  your  madcl'ning  hell-cup  to  the  brim, 
Its  witch'ry,  fiends,  will  have  no  charm  for  him. 
Let  loose  your  glowing  wantons  from  their  bowers, 
He  loves,  he  loves,  and  can  defy  their  powers  ! 
"Wretch  as  I  am,  in  his  heart  still  I  reign 
Pure  as  when  first  we  met,  without  a  stain ! 
Though  ruin'd  —  lost  —  my  memory,  like  a  charm 
Left  by  the  dead,  still  keeps  his  soul  from  harm. 
Oh !  never  let  him  know  how  deep  the  brow 
He  kiss'd  at  parting  is  dishonor'd  now ;  — 
Ne'er  tell  him  how  debas'd,  how  sunk  is  she, 
Whom  once  he  lov'd  —  once  !  —  still  loves  dotingly. 
Thou  laugh' st,  tormentor,  —  what !  thou'lt  brand  my 


Do,  do  —  in  vain  —  he'll  not  believe  my  shame  — 
He  thinks  me  true ;  that  nought  beneath  God's  sky 
Could  tempt  or  change  me,  and  —  so  once  thought  I. 
But  this  is  past  —  though  worse  than  death  my  lot, 
Than  hell  —  'tis  nothing  while  he  knows  it  not. 
Far  off  to  some  benighted  land  I'll  fly, 
Where  sunbeam  ne'er  shall  enter  till  I  die ; 
Where  none  will  ask  the  lost  one  whence  she  came, 
But  I  may  fade  and  fall  without  a  name. 
And  thou  — curst  man  or  fiend,  whate'er  thou  art, 
Who  found'st  this  burning  plague-spot  in  my  heart, 
And  spread'st  it  —  oh,  so  quick  !  —  through  soul  and 


With  more  than  demon's  art,  till  I  became 
A  loathsome  thing,  all  pestilence,  all  flame  !  — 
If  when  I'm  gone " 

"  Hold,  fearless  maniac,  hold. 
Nor  tempt  my  rage  —  by  Heaven,  not  half  so  bold 


The  puny  bird,  that  dares  with  teasing  hum 

Within  the  crocodile's  stfetch'd  jaws  to  come  !  M 

And  so  thou'lt  fly,  forsooth  ?  —  what !  —  give  up  all 

Thy  chaste  dominion  in  the  Haram  Hall, 

Where  now  to  Love  and  now  to  ALLA  given, 

Half  mistress  and  half  saint,  thou  hang'st  as  even 

As  doth  MEDINA'S  tomb,  'twixt  hell  and  heaven! 

Thou'lt  fly  !  —  as  easily  may  reptiles  run, 

The  gaunt  snake  once  hath  fix'd  his  eyes  upon ; 

As  easily,  when  caught,  the  prey  may  be 

Pluck'd  from  his  loving  folds,  as  thou  from  me. 

No,  no,  'tis  fix'd  —  let  good  or  ill  betide, 

Thou'rt  mine  till  death,  till  death  MOKANNA'S  bride  ! 

Hast  thou  forgot  thy  oath  ?  "  — 

At  this  dread  word, 

The  Maid,  whose  spirit  his  rude  taunts  had  stirr'd 
Through  all  its  depth,  and  rous'd  an  anger  there, 
That  burst  and  lighten'd  ev'n  through  her  despair — 
Shrunk  back,  as  if  a  blight  were  in  the  breath 
That  spoke  that  word,  and  stagger'd,  pale  as  death. 

"  Yes,  my  sworn  bride,  let  others  seek  in  bowers 
Their  bridal  place  —  the  charnel  vault  was  ours  ! 
Instead  of  scents  and  balms,  for  thee  and  me 
Rose  the  rich  steams  of  sweet  mortality  ; 
Gay,  flickering  death-lights  shone  while  we  were  wed, 
And,  for  our  guests,  a  row  of  goodly  Dead, 
flmmortal  spirits  in  their  time,  no  doubt,) 
From  reeking  .shrouds  upon  the  rite  look'd  out! 
That  oath  .thou  heard'st  more  lips  than  thine  repeat  — 
That  cup  —  thou  shudd'rest,  Lady,  — was  it  sweet? 
That  cup  we  pledg'd,  the  churnel's  choicest  wine, 
Hath  bound  thee  —  ay,  body  and  soul  all  mine  ; 
Hound  thee  by  chains  that,  whether  blest  or  curst 


No  matter  now,  not  hell  itself  shall  burst ! 

Hence,  woman,  to  the  Haram,  and  look  gay, 

Look  wild,  look  —  anything  but  sad;  yet  stay  — 

One  moment  more  —  from  what  this  night  hath  pass'd, 

I  see  thou  know'st  me,  know'st  me  well  at  last. 

Ha !  ha !  and  so,  fond  thing,  thou  thought'st  all  true, 

And  that  I  love  mankind  ?  —  I  do,  I  do  — 

As  victims,  love  them ;  as  the  sea-dog  doats 

Upon  the  small,  sweet  fry  that  round  him  floats ; 

Or,  as  the  Nile-bird  loves  the  slime  that  gives 

That  rank  and  venomous  food  on  which  she  lives  ! 5T  — 

"And,  now  thou  see'st  my  soul's  angelic  hue, 
'Tis  time  these  features  were  uncurtain'd  too ;  — 
This  brow,  whose  light  —  oh  rare  celestial  light ! 
Hath  been  reserv'd  to  bless  thy  favor'd  sight ; 
These  dazzling  eyes,  before  whose  shrouded  might 
Thou'st  seen  immortal  Man  kneel  down  and  quake  — 
Would  that  they  were  heaven's  lightnings  for  his  sake ! 
But  turn  and  look  —  then  wonder,  if  thou  wilt, 
That  I  should  hate,  should  take  revenge,  by  guilt, 
Upon  the  hand,  whose  mischief  or  whose  mirth 
Sent  me  thus  maim'd  and  monstrous  upon  earth ; 
And  on  that  race  who,  though  more  vile  they  be 
Than  mowing  apes,  are  demi-gods  to  me ! 
Here  —  judge  if  hell,  with  all  its  power  to  damn, 
Can  add  one  curse  to  the  foul  thing  I  am ! " 

He  rais'd  his  veil  —  the  Maid  turn'd  slowly  round, 
Look'd  at  him  —  shriek'd  —  and  sunk  upon  the  ground! 

LALLA   ROOKll.  51 

Ox  their  arrival,  next  night,  at  the  place  of  encampment, 
they  were  surprised  and  delighted  to  find  the  groves  all 
around  illuminated  ;  some  artists  of  Yamtcheou 68  having 
been  sent  on  previously  for  the  purpose.  On  each  side 
of  the  green  alley,  which  led  to  the  Royal  Pavilion, 
artificial  sceneries  of  bamboo- work 69  were  erected,  repre- 
senting arches,  minarets,  and  towers,  from  which  hung 
thousands  of  silken  lanterns,  painted  by  the  most  deli- 
cate pencils  of  Canton.  — Nothing  could  be  more  beautiful 
than  the  leaves  of  the  mango-trees  and  acacias,  shining 
in  the  light  of  the  bamboo-scenery,  which  shed  a  lustre 
round  as  soft  as  that  of  the  nights  of  Peristan. 

LALLA  ROOKH,  however,  who  was  too  much  occupied 
by  the  sad  story  of  ZELICA  and  her  lover,  to  give  a 
thought  to  anything  else,  except,  perhaps,  him  who 
related  it,  hurried  on  through  this  scene  of  splendor  to 
her  pavilion,  —  greatly  to  the  mortification  of  the  poor 
artists  of  Yamtcheou,  —  and  was  followed  with  equal 
rapidity  by  the  Great  Chamberlain,  cursing,  as  he  went, 
that  ancient  Mandarin,  whose  parental  anxiety  in  light- 
ing up  the  shores  of  the  lake,  where  his  beloved  daughter 
had  wandered  and  been  lost,  was  the  origin  of  these 
fantastic  Chinese  illuminations.90 

Without  a  moment's  delay,  young  FKKAMOKZ  was  intro- 
duced, and  FADLADKKX,  who  could  never  mak*  ~p  his 
mind  as  to  the  merits  of  a  poet,  till  he  knew  the  religious 
sect  to  whieh  he  l»elonged,  was  about  to  ask  him  whether 
he  was  a  Shia  or  a  Sooni,  when  LALLA  KOOKH  impa- 
tiently clapped  her  hands  for  silence,  and  the  youth, 
being  sejited  u|xm  the  musnnd  near  her,  proceeded :  — 


PREPARE  thy  soul,  young  AZIM  !  —  thou  hast  brav'd 

The  bands  of  GREECE,  still  mighty  though  enslav'd ; 

Hast  faced  her  phalanx,  arm'd  with  all  its  fame, 

Her  Macedonian  pikes  and  globes  of  flame ; 

All  this  hast  fronted,  with  firm  heart  and  brow, 

But  a  more  perilous  trial  waits  thee  now,  — 

Woman's  bright  eyes,  a  dazzling  host  of  eyes 

From  every  land  where  woman  smiles  or  sighs ; 

Of  every  hue,  as  Love  may  chance  to  raise 

His  black  or  azure  banner  in  their  blaze ; 

And  each  sweet  mode  of  warfare,  from  the  flash 

That  lightens  boldly  through  the  shadowy  lash, 

To  the  sly,  stealing  splendors,  almost  hid, 

"Like  swords  half-sheath'd,  beneath  the  downcast  lid :  - 

Such,  AZIM,  is  the  lovely,  luminous  host 

Now  led  against  thee ;  and,  let  conquerors  boast 

Their  fields  of  fame,  he  who  in  virtue  arms 

A  young,  warm  spirit  against  beauty's  charms, 

Who  feels  her  brightness,  yet  defies  her  thrall, 

Is  the  best,  bravest  conqueror  of  them  all. 

Now,  through  the  Haram  chambers,  moving  lights 
And  busy  shapes  proclaim  the  toilet's  rites ;  — 
From  room  to  room  the  ready  handmaids  hie, 
Some  skill'd  to  wreathe  the  turban  tastefully, 
Or  hang  the  veil,  in  negligence  of  shade, 
O'er  the  warm  blushes  of  the  youthful  maid, 
Who,  if  between  the  folds  but  one  eye  shone, 
Like  SEBA'S  Queen  could  vanquish  with  that  one:61- 
While  some  bring  leaves  of  Henna,  to  imbue 
The  fingers'  ends  with  a  bright  roseate  hue,62 
So  bright,  that  in  the  mirror's  depth  they  seem. 


Like  tips  of  coral  branches  in  the  stream ; 

And  others  mix  the  Kohol's  jetty  dye, 

To  give  that  long,  dark  languish  to  the  eye,68 

Which  makes  the  maids,  whom  kings  are  proud  to  cull 

From  fair  Circassia's  vales,  so  beautiful. 

All  is  in  motion ;  rings  and  plumes  and  pearls 

Are  shining  everywhere  :  —  some  younger  girls 

Are  gone  by  moonlight  to  the  garden  beds, 

To  gather  fresh,  cool  chaplets  for  their  heads ;  — 

Gay  creatures !  sweet,  though  mournful,  'tis  to  see 

How  each  prefers  a  garland  from  that  tree 

Which  brings  to  mind  her  childhood's  innocent  day, 

And  the  dear  fields  and  friendships  far  away. 

The  maid  of  IXDIA,  blest  again  to  hold 

In  her  full  lap  the  Champac's  leaves  of  gold,64 

Thinks  of  the  time  when,  by  the  GANGES'  flood, 

Her  little  playmates  scatter'd  many  a  bud 

Upon  her  long  black  hair,  with  glossy  gleam 

Just  dripping  from  the  consecrated  stream ; 

While  the  young  Arab,  haunted  by  the  smell 

Of  her  own  mountain  flowers,  as  by  a  spell,  — 

The  sweet  Elcaya,6*  and  that  courteous  tree 

Which  bows  to  all  who  seek  its  canopy,68 

Sees,  call'd  up  round  her  by  these  magic  scents, 

The  well,  the  camels,  and  her  father's  tents ; 

Sighs  for  the  home  she  left  with  little  pain, 

And  wishes  even  its  sorrows  back  again ! 

Meanwhile,  through  vast  illuminated  halls, 
Silent  and  bright,  where  nothing  Imt  the  falls 
Ot  fragrant  waters,  gushing  with  cool  sound 
From  many  a  jasper  fount,  is  heard  around, 
Young  AZIM   roams  bewilder'd, —  nor  can  guess 
What  means  this  ma/e  of  light  and  loneliness. 
Here,  the  way  leads,  o'er  tesselated  floors 


Or  mats  of  CAIRO,  through  long  corridors, 
Where,  ranged  in  cassolets  and  silver  urns, 
Sweet  wood  of  aloe  or  of  saiidaJ  burns ; 
And  spicy  rods,  such  as  illume  at  night 
The  bowers  of  TIBET, 6T  send  forth  odorous  light, 
Like  Peris'  wands,  when  pointing  out  the  road 
For  some  pure  Spirit  to  its  blest  abode  :  — 
And  here,  at  once,  the  glittering  saloon 
Bursts  on  his  sight,  boundless  and  bright  as  noon; 
"Where,  in  the  midst,  reflecting  back  the  rays 
In  broken  rainbows,  'a  fresh  fountain  plays 
High  as  the  enamell'd  cupola,  which  towers 
All  rich  with  Arabesques  of  gold  and  flowers : 
And  the  mosaic  floor  beneath  shines  through 
The  sprinkling  of  that  fountain's  silv'ry  dew, 
Like  the  wet,  glistening  shells,  of  every  dye, 
That  on  the  margin  of  the  Red  Sea  lie. 

Here  too  he  traces  the  kind  visitings 
Of  woman's  love  in  those  fair,  living  things 
Of  land  and  wave,  whose  fate  —  in  bondage  thrown 
For  their  weak  loveliness  —  is  like  her  own ! 
On  one  side  gleaming  with  a  sudden  grace 
Through  water,  brilliant  as  the  crystal  vase 
In  which  it  undulates,  small  fishes  shine, 
Like  golden  ingots  from  a  fairy  mine ;  — 
While,  on  the  other,  latticed  lightly  in 
With  odoriferous  woods  of  CoMORix,68 
Each  brilliant  bird  that  wings  the  air  is  seen;  — 
Gay,  sparkling  loories,  such  as  gleam  between 
The  crimson  blossoms  of  the  coral  tree 69 
In  the  warm  Isles  of  India's  sunny  sea : 
Mecca's  blue  sacred  pigeon,70  and  the  thrush 
Of  Hindostan,71  whose  holy  warblings  gush, 
At  evening,  from  the  tall  pagoda's  top ;  — 


Those  golden  birds  that,  in  the  spice-time,  drop 
About  the  gardens,  drunk  with  that  sweet  food 73 
Whose  scent  hath  lur'd  them  o'er  the  summer  flood ; 7* 
And  those  that  under  Araby's  soft  sun 
Build  their  high  nests  of  budding  cinnamon :  "* 
In  short,  all  rare  and  beauteous  things,  that  fly 
Through  the  pure  element,  here  calmly  lie 
Sleeping  in  light,  like  the  green  birds76  that  dweli 
In  Eden's  radiant  fields  of  asphodel ! 

So  on,  through  scenes  past  all  imagining, 
More  like  the  luxuries  of  that  impious  King,78 
Whom  Death's  dark  angel,  with  his  lightning  torch, 
Struck  down  and  blasted  even  in  Pleasure's  porch, 
Than  the  pure  dwelling  of  a  Prophet  sent, 
Arm'd  with   Heaven's  sword,  for  man's  enfranchise- 
ment — 

Young  AZIM  wander'd,  looking  sternly  round, 
His  simple  garb  and  war-boots'  clanking  sound 
But  ill  according  with  the  pomp  and  grace 
And  silent  lull  of  that  voluptuous  place. 

"Is  this,  then."  thought  the  youth,  "is  this  the  way 
To  free  man's  spirit  from  the  dead'ning  sway 
Of  worldly  sloth,  —  to  teach  him,  while  he  lives, 
To  know  no  bliss  but  that  which  virtue  gives, 
And,  when  he  dies,  to  leave  his  lofty  name 
A  light,  a  landmark  on  the  cliffs  of  fame  ? 
It  was  not  so,  Land  of  the  generous  thought 
And  daring  deed,  thy  godlike  sages  taught; 
It  was  imt  thus,  in  Iwiwers  of  wanton  ease, 
Thy  Freedom  nurs'd  her  sacred  energies  ; 
Oh!  not  IxMieath  the  enfeebling,  withering  glow 
Of  such  dull  luxury  did  those  myrtles  grow, 


With  which  she  wreath'd  her  sword,  when  she  would 


Immortal  deeds ;  but  in  the  bracing  airt 
Of  toil,  —  of  temperance,  —  of  that  high,  rare, 
Ethereal  virtue,  which  alone  can  breathe 
Life,  health,  and  lustre  into  Freedom's  wreath. 
Who,  that  surveys  this  span  of  earth  we  press,  — 
This  speck  of  life  in  time's  great  wilderness, 
This  narrow  isthmus  'twixt  two  boundless  seas, 
The  past,  the  future,  two  eternities !  — 
Would  sully  the  bright  spot,  or  leave  it  bare, 
When  he  might  build  him  a  proud  temple  there, 
A  name,  that  long  shall  hallow  all  its  space, 
And  be  each  purer  soul's  high  resting-place  ? 
But  no  —  it  cannot  be,  that  one,  whom  God 
Hath  sent  to  break  the  wizard  Falsehood's  rod,  — 
A  Prophet  of  the  Truth,  whose  mission  draws 
Its  rights  from  Heaven,  should  thus  profane  its  cause 
With  the  world's  vulgar  pomp ;  —  no,  no,  —  I  see  — 
He  thinks  me  weak  —  this  glare  of  luxury 
Is  but  to  tempt,  to  try  the  eaglet  gaze 
Of  my  young  soul  —  shine  on,  'twill  stand  the  blaze  ! " 

So  thought  the  j^outh ;  —  but,  ev'n  while  he  defied 
This  witching  scene,  he  felt  its  witchery  glide 
Through  ev'ry  sense.     The  perfume  breathing  round, 
Like  a  pervading  spirit ;  — the  still  sound 
Of  falling  waters,  lulling  as  the  song 
Of  Indian  bees  at  sunset,  when  they  throng 
Around  the  fragrant  NILICA,  and  deep 
In  its  blue  blossoms  hum  themselves  to  sleep ; 77 
And  music,  too  —  dear  music  !  that  can  touch 
Beyond  all  else  the  soul  that  loves  it  much  — 
Now  heard  far  off,  so  far  as  but  to  seem 
Like  the  faint,  exquisite  music  of  a  dream; 


All  was  too  much  for  him,  too  full  of  bliss, 
The  heart  could  nothing  feel,  that  felt  not  this ; 
Soften'd  he  sank  upon  a  couch,  and  gave 
His  soul  up  to  sweet  thoughts,  like  wave  on  wave 
Succeeding  to  smooth  seas,  when  storms  are  laid ; 
He  thought  of  ZELICA,  his  own  dear  maid, 
And  of  the  time  when,  full  of  blissful  sighs, 
They  sat  and  look'd  into  each  other's  eyes, 
Silent  and  happy  —  as  if  God  had  given 
Nought  else  worth  looking  at  on  this  side  heaven. 

"  Oh,  my  lov'd  mistress,  thou,  whose  spirit  still 
Is  with  me,  round  me,  wander  where  I  will  — 
It  is  for  thee,  for  thee  alone  I  seek 
The  paths  of  glory  ;  to  light  up  thy  cheek 
With  warm  approval  —  in  that  gentle  look 
To  read  my  praise,  as  in  an  angel's  book, 
And  think  all  toils  rewarded,  when  from  thee 
I  gain  a  smile  worth  immortality ! 
How  shall  I  bear  the  moment  when  restor'd 
To  that  young  heart  where  I  alone  am  Lord, 
Though  of  such  bliss  unworthy, — since  the  best 
Alone  deserve  to  be  the  happiest;  — 
When  from  those  lips,  unbreath'd  upon  for  years, 
I  shall  again  kiss  off  the  soul-felt  tears, 
And  find  those  tears  warm  as  when  last  they  started, 
Those  sacred  kisses  pure  as  when  we  parted  ? 
O  my  own  life  !  —  why  should  a  single  day, 
A  moment,  keep  me  from  those  arms  away  ?  " 

While  thus  he  thinks,  still  nearer  on  the  br«eze 
Come  those  delicious,  dream-like  harmonies, 
Each  note  of  which  but  adds  new,  downy  links 
To  the  soft  chain  in  which  his  spirit  sinks. 
He  turns  him  tow'ru  the  sound,  and  far  avvuv 


Through  a  long  vista,  sparkling  with  the  play 

Of  countless  lamps,  —  like  the  rich  track  which  Day 

Leaves  on  the  waters,  when  he  sinks  from  us, 

So  long  the  path,  its  light  so  tremulous  ;  — 

He  sees  a  group  of  female  forms  advance, 

Some  chain'd  together  in  the  mazy  dance 

By  fetters,  forged  in  the  green  sunny  bowers, 

As  they  were  captives  to  the  King  of  Flowers ; 78 

And  some  disporting  round,  unlink'd  and  free, 

Who  seem'd  to  mock  their  sisters'  slavery ; 

And  round  and  round  them  still,  in  wheeling  flight, 

Went,  like  gay  moths  about  a  lamp  at  night ; 

While  others  walk'd,  as  gracefully  along 

Their  feet  kept  time,  the  very  soul  of  song, 

From  psaltery,  pipe,  and  lutes  of  heavenly  thrill, 

Or  their  own  youthful  voices,  heavenlier  still. 

And  now  they  come,  now  pass  before  his  eye, 

Forms  such  as  Nature  moulds,  when  she  would  vie 

With  Fancy's  pencil,  and  give  birth  to  things, 

Lovely  beyond  its  fairest  picturings. 

Awhile  they  dance  before  him,  then  divide, 

Breaking,  like  rosy  clouds  at  even-tide 

Around  the  rich  pavilion  of  the  sun,  — 

Till  silently  dispersing,  one  by  one 

Through  many  a  path,  that  from  the  chamber  leads 

To  gardens,  terraces,  and  moonlight  meads, 

Their  distant  laughter  comes  upon  the  wind, 

And  but  one  trembling  nymph  remains  behind,  — 

Beck'ning  them  back  in  vain,  for  they  are  gone, 

And  she  is  left  in  all  that  light  alone ; 

No  veil  to  curtain  o'er  her  beauteous  brow, 

In  its  young  bashfulness  more  beauteous  now ; 

But  a  light  golden  chain-work  round  her  hair,79 

Such  as  the  maids  of  YEZD  80  and  SIIIRAS  wear, 

From  which,  on  either  side,  gracefully  hung 


A  golden  amulet,  in  the  Arab  tongue 

Engraven  o'er  with  some  immortal  line 

From  Holy  Writ,  or  bard  scarce  less  divine ; 

While  her  left  hand,  as  shrinkingly  she  stood, 

Held  a  small  lute  of  gold  and  sandal-wood, 

Which,  once  or  twice,  she  touch'd  with  hurried  strain, 

Then  took  her  trembling  fingers  off  again. 

But  when  at  length  a  timid  glance  she  stole 

At  AZIM,  the  sweet  gravity  of  soul 

She  saw  through  all  his  features  calm'd  her  fear, 

And,  like  a  half-tam'd  antelope,  more  near, 

Though   shrinking  still,   she  came ;  —  then  sat  her 


Upon  a  musnud's 81  edge,  and,  bolder  grown, 
In  the  pathetic  mode  of  ISFAHAN  82 
Touch'd  a  preluding  strain,  and  thus  began : 

There's  a  bower  of  roses  by  BKXDKMEKR'S  88  stream, 
And  the  nightingale  sings  round  it  all  the  day  long; 

In  the  time  of  my  childhood  'twas  like  a  sweet  dream, 
To  sit  in  the  roses  and  hear  the  bird's  song. 

Tint  bower  and  its  music  I  never  forget, 

I»ut  oft  when  alone  in  the  bloom  of  the  year, 

I  think — is  the  nightingale  singing  there  yet  ? 

Are  the  roses  still  bright  by  the  calm  BKXDEMEER? 

No,  the  roses  soon  wither'd  that  hung  o'er  the  wave, 
But  some  blossoms  were  gather'd,  while  freshly  they 

And  a  dew  was  distill'd  from  their  flowers,  that  gave 
All  the  fragrance  of  summer,  wlu-n  summer  was  gone. 

60  LALLA   JiOOKH. 

Thus  memory  draws  from  delight,  ere  it  dies, 
An  essence  that  breathes  of  it  many  a  year ; 

Thus  bright  to  my  soul,  as  'twas  then  to  my  eyes, 
Is  that  bower  on  the  banks  of  the  calm  BENDEMEEB. 

"  Poor  maiden ! "  thought  the  youth,  "  if  thou  wert 


With  thy  soft  lute  and  beauty's  blandishment, 
To  wake  unholy  wishes  in  this  heart, 
Or  tempt  its  truth,  thou  little  know'st  the  art. 
For  though  thy  lip  should  sweetly  counsel  wrong, 
Those  vestal  eyes  would  disavow  its  song. 
But  thou  hast  breath'd  such  purity,  thy  lay 
Returns  so  fondly  to  youth's  virtuous  day, 
And  leads  thy  soul — if  e'er  it  wander'd  thence  — 
So  gently  back  to  its  first  innocence, 
That  I  would  sooner  stop  the  unchain'd  dove, 
When  swift  returning  to  its  home  of  love, 
And  round  its  snowy  wing  new  fetters  twine, 
Than  turn  from  virtue  one  pure  wish  of  thine  ! " 

Scarce  had  this  feeling  pass'd,  when,  sparkling 


The  gently  open'd  curtains  of  light  blue 
That  veil'd  the  breezy  casement,  countless  eyes, 
Peeping  like  stars  through  the  blue  evening  skies, 
Look'd  laughing  in,  as  if  to  mock  the  pair 
That  sat  so  still  and  melancholy  there :  — 
And  now  the  curtains  fly  apart,  and  in 
From  the  cool  air,  'mid  showers  of  jessamine 
Which  those  without  fling  after  them  in  play, 
Two  lightsome  maidens  spring.  —  lightsome  as  they 
Who  live  in  the  air  on  odors,  —  and  around 
The  bright  saloon,  scarce  conscious  of  the  ground, 
Chase  one  another,  in  a  varying  dance 


Of  mirth  and  languor,  coyness  and  advance, 
Too  eloquently  like  love's  warm  pursuit :  — 
While  she,  who  sung  so  gently  to  the  lute 
Her  dream  of  home,  steals  timidly  away, 
Shrinking  as  violets  do  in  summer's  ray, — 
But  takes  with  her  from  AZIM'S  heart  that  sigh 
We  sometimes  give  to  forms  that  pass  us  by 
In  the  world's  crowd,  too  lovely  to  remain, 
('features  of  light  we  never  see  again  ! 

Around  the  white  necks  of  the  nymphs  who  danc'd 
Hung  carcanets  of  orient  gems,  that  glanc'd 
More  brilliant  than  the  sea-glass  glittering  o'er 
The  hills  of  crystal  on  the  Caspian  shore  ; 84 
While  from  their  long,  dark  tresses,  in  a  fall 
Of  curls  descending,  bells  as  musical 
As  those  that,  on  the  golden-shafted  trees 
Of  EDEX,  shake  in  the  eternal  breeze,88 
Rung  round  their  steps,  at  every  bound  more  sweet, 
As  'twere  the  ecstatic  language  of  their  feet. 
At  length  the  chase  was  o'er,  and  they  stood  wreath'd 
Within  each  other's  arms ;  while  soft  there  breath'd 
Through  the  cool  casement,  mingled  with  the  sighs 
Of  moonlight  flowers,  music  that  seem'd  to  rise 
From  some  still  lake,  so  liquidly  it  rose  ; 
And,  as  it  swell'd  again  at  each  faint  close, 
The  ear  could  truck,  through  all  that  maze  of  chorda 
And  young  sweet  voices,  these  impassion'd  \vords  : 

A  Spirit  there  is,  whose  fragrant  sigh 
Is  burning  now  through  earth  and  air: 

Win-re  checks  are  blushing,  the  Spirit  is  nigh; 
Where  lips  are  meeting,  the  Spirit  is  there  I 


His  breath  is  the  soul  of  flowers  like  these, 
And  his  floating  eyes  —  oh  !  they  resemble8* 

Blue  water-lilies,87  when  the  breeze 

Is  making  the  stream  around  them  tremble. 

Hail  to  thee,  hail  to  thee,  kindling  power ! 

Spirit  of  Love,  Spirit  of  Bliss  ! 
Thy  holiest  time  is  the  moonlight  hour, 

And  there  never  was  moonlighv  so  swreet  as  this. 

By  the  fair  and  brave 

Who  blushing  unite, 
Like  the  sun  and  wave, 

When  they  meet  at  night ; 

By  the  tear  that  shows 

When  passion  is  nigh, 
As  the  rain-drop  flows 

From  the  heat  of  the  sky ; 

By  the  first  love-beat 

Of  the  youthful  heart, 
By  the  bliss  to  meet, 

And  the  pain  to  part ; 

By  all  that  thou  hast 

To  mortals  given, 
Which  —  oh,  'could  it  last. 

This  earth  were  heaven ! 

We  call  thee  hither,  entrancing  Power ! 

Spirit  of  Love !  Spirit  of  Bliss  ! 
Thy  holiest  time  is  the  moonlight  hour, 

And  there  never  was  moonlight  so  sweet  as  this. 


Impatient  of  a  scene  whose  luxuries  stole, 
Spite  of  himself,  too  deep  into  his  soul, 
And  where,  midst  all  that  the  young  heart  loves  most  — 
Flowers,  music,  smiles  —  to  yield  was  to  be  lost, 
The  youth  had  started  up,  and  turn'd  away 
From  the  light  nymphs,  and  their  luxurious  lay, 
To  muse  upon  the  pictures  that  hung  round,88  — 
Bright  images,  that  spoke  without  a  sound  ; 
And  views,  like  vistas  into  fairy  ground. 
But  here  again  new  spells  came  o'er  his  sense  :  — 
All  that  the  pencil's  mute  omnipotence 
Could  call  up  into  life,  of  soft  and  fair, 
Of  fond  and  passionate,  was  glowing  there  ; 
Nor  yet  i,oo  warm,  but  touch'd  with  that  fine  art 
Which  paints  of  pleasure  but  the  purer  part  ; 
Which  knows  even  Beauty  when  half-veil'd  is  best,  — 
Like  her  own  radiant  planet  of  the  west, 
Whose  orb  when  half-retir'd  looks  loveliest.89 
There  hung  the  history  of  the  Genii-King, 
Traced  through  each  gay,  voluptuous  wandering 
With  her  from  SABA'S  bowers,  in  whose  bright  eyes 
He  read  that  to  be  blest  is  to  be  wise  ;*°  — 
Here  fond  ZuLKiKA91  woos  with  open  arms 
The  Hebrew  boy,  who  flies  from  her  young  charms, 
Yet,  flying,  turns  to  gaxe,  and,  half  undone, 
Wishes  that  Heaven  and  she  could  JmtJi  be  won  ; 
And  here  MOIIAMMKD,  Inirn  for  low  and  guile 
Forgets  the  Koran  in  his  MAKY'S  smile;  — 
Then  U'ckons  some  kind  angel  from  above 
With  a  new  text  to  consecrate  their  low.*a 

Witli  rapid  step,  yet  pleas'd  and  ling'ring 
Did  the  youth  pass  these  piotnrM  stories  by, 
And  hasten'd  to  a  casement,  where  the  light 
Of  the  calm  moon  came  in,  and  freshly  bright 


The  fields  without  were  seen,  sleeping  as  still 

As  if  no  life  remain'd  in  breeze  or  rill. 

Here  paus'd  he,  while  the  music,  now  less  near, 

Breath'd  with  a  holier  language  on  his  ear, 

As  though  the  distance,  and  that  heavenly  ray 

Through  which  the  sounds  came  floating,  took  away 

All  that  had  been  too  earthly  in  the  lay. 

Oh  !  could  he  listen  to  such  sounds  unmov'd, 
And  by  that  light  —  nor  dream  of  her  he  lov'd  ? 
Dream  on,  unconscious  boy  !  while  yet  thou  may'st ; 
'Tis  the  last  bliss  thy  soul  shall  ever  taste. 
Clasp  yet  awhile  her  image  to  thy  heart, 
Ere  all  the  light,  that  made  it  dear,  depart. 
Think  of  her  smiles  as  when  thou  saw'st  them  last, 
Clear,  beautiful,  by  nought  of  earth  o'ercast ; 
Recall  her  tears,  to  thee  at  parting  given, 
Pure  as  they  weep,  if  angels  weep,  in  Heaven. 
Think,  in  her  own  still  bower  she  waits  thee  now, 
With  the  same  glow  of  heart  and  bloom  of  brow, 
Yet  shrin'd  in  solitude  —  thine  all,  thine  only, 
Like  the  one  star  above  thee,  bright  and  lonely. 
Oh  !  that  a  dream  so  sweet,  so  long  enjoy'd, 
Should  be  so  sadly,  cruelly  destroy'd ! 

The  song  is  hush'd,  the  laughing  nymphs  are  flown, 
And  he  is  left,  musing  of  bliss,  alone ;  — 
Alone  ?  —  no,  not  alone  —  that  heavy  sigh, 
That  sob  of  grief,  which  broke  from  some  one  nigh  — 
Whose  could  it  be  ?  — alas  !  is  misery  found 
Here,  even  here,  on  this  enchanted  ground  ? 
He  turns,  and  sees  a  female  form,  close  veil'd, 
Leaning,  as  if  both  heart  and  strength  had  fail'd, 
Against  a  pillar  near  ;  —  not  glittering  o'er 
With  gems  and  wreaths,  such  as  the  others  wore, 


But  in  that  deep-blue,  melancholy  dress,98 

BOKHARA'S  maidens  wear  in  mindfulness 

Of  friends  or  kindred,  dead  or  far  away ;  — 

And  such  as  ZELICA   had  on  that  day 

He  left  her  —  when,  with  heart  too  full  to  speak, 

He  took  away  her  last  warm  tears  upon  his  cheek. 

A  strange  emotion  stirs  within  him,  — more 
Than  mere  compassion  ever  wak'd  before  ; 
Unconsciously  he  opes  his  arms,  while  she 
Springs  forward,  as  with  life's  last  energy, 
But,  swooning  in  that  one  convulsive  bound, 
Sinks,  ere  she  reach  his  arms,  upon  the  ground ;  — 
Her  veil  falls  off  —  her  faint  hands  clasp  his  knees  — 
'Tis  she  herself !  —  'tis  ZELICA  he  sees  ! 
But,  ah,  so  pale,  so  chang'd  —  none  but  a  lover 
Could  in  that  wreck  of  beauty's  shrine  discover 
The  once  ador'd  divinity  —  even  he 
Stood  for  some  moments  mute,  and  doubtingly 
Put  back  the  ringlets  from  her  brow,  and  gaz'd 
Upon  those  lids,  where  once  such  lustre  blaz'd, 
Ere  he  could  think  she  was  indeed  his  own, 
Own  darling  maid,  whom  he  so  long  had  known 
In  joy  and  sorrow,  beautiful  in  both  ; 
Who,  even  when  grief  was  heaviest  —  when  loth 
He  left  her  for  the  wars  —  in  that  worst  hour 
Sat  in  her  sorrow  like  the  sweet  night-flower,94 
When  darkness  brings  its  weeping  glories  out, 
And  spreads  its  sighs  like  frankincense  alxmt. 

"Look  up,  my  ZELH-A — one  moment  show 
Those  gentle  eyes  to  me,  that  I  may  know 
Thy  life,  thy  loveliness  is  not  all  gone, 
But  there,  at  least,  shines  as  it  ever  shone. 
C'oine,  look  upon  thy  A/IM  — one  dear  glance, 


Like  those  of  old,  were  heaven  !  whatever  chance 
Hath  brought  thee  here,  oh,  'twas  a  blessed  one  ! 
There  —  my  lov'd  lips  —  they  move  —  that  kiss  hath 


Like  the  first  shoot  of  life  through  every  vein, 
And  now  I  clasp  her,  mine,  all  mine  again. 
Oh  the  delight  —  now,  in  this  very  hour, 
When  had  the  whole  rich  world  been  in  my  power, 
I  should  have  singled  out  thee,  only  thee, 
From  the  whole  world's  collected  treasury  — 
To  have  thee  here  —  to  hang  thus  fondly  o'er 
My  own,  best,  purest  ZELICA  once  more  !  " 

It  was  indeed  the  touch  of  those  fond  lips 
Upon  her  eyes  that  chas'd  their  short  eclipse ; 
And,  gradual  as  the  snow,  at  Heaven's  breath,  - 
Melts  off  and  shows  the  azure  flowers  beneath, 
Her  lids  unclos'd,  and  the  bright  eyes  were  seen 
Gazing  on  his  —  not,  as  they  late  had  been, 
Quick,  restless,  wild,  but  mournfully  serene  ; 
As  if  to  lie,  even  for  that  tranced  minute, 
So  near  his  heart,  had  consolation  in  it ; 
And  thus  to  wake  in  his  belov'd  caress 
Took  from  her  soul  one  half  its  wretchedness. 
But,  when  she  heard  him  call  her  good  and  pure, 
Oh,  'twas  too  much  —  too  dreadful  to  endure  ! 
Shudd'ring  she  broke  away  from  his  embrace, 
And,  hiding  with  both  hands  her  guilty  face, 
Said,  in  a  tone  whose  anguish  would  have  riven 
A  heart  of  very  marble,  "  Pure  !  —  oh,  Heaven  !  "  — 

That  tone  —  those  looks  so  chang'd  —  the  withering 


That  sin  and  sorrow  leave  where'er  they  light ; 
The  dead  despondency  of  those  sunk  eyes, 


Where  once,  had  he  thus  met  her  by  surprise, 

He  would  have  seen  himself,  too  happy  boy, 

Reflected  in  a  thousand  lights  of  joy  ; 

And  then  the  place,  —  that  bright,  unholy  place, 

Where  vice  lay  hid  beneath  each  winning  grace 

And  charm  of  luxury,  as  the  viper  weaves 

Its  wily  covering  of  sweet  balsam  leaves,95  — 

All  struck  upon  his  heart,  sudden  and  cold 

As  death  itself ;  —  it  needs  not  to  be  told  — 

No,  no  —  he  sees  it  all,  plain  as  the  brand 

Of  burning  shame  can  mark  —  whate'er  the  hand, 

That  could  from   Heaven  and  him  such  brightness 


'Tis  done  —  to  Heaven  and  him  she's  lost  forever  ! 
It  was  a  dreadful  moment ;  not  the  tears, 
The  lingering,  lasting  misery  of  years 
Could  match  that  minute's  anguish  —  all  the  worst 
Of  sorrow's  elements  in  that  dark  burst 
Broke  o'er  his  soul,  and,  with  one  crash  of  fate, 
Laid  the  whole  hopes  of  his  life  desolate. 

"Oh  !  curse  me  not,"  she  cried,  as  wild  he  toss'd 
His  desperate  hand  tow'rd  Heaven  —  "  though  I  am 


Think  not  that  guilt,  that  falsehood  made  me  fall : 
No,  no  —  'twas  grief,  'twas  madness  did  it  all ! 
Nay,  doubt  me  not  —  though  all  thy  love  hath  ceas'd  — 
I  know  it  hath  —  yet,  yet  believe,  at  least, 
That  every  spark  of  reason's  light  must  be 
Quonoh'd  in  this  brain,  ere  T  could  stray  from  thee. 
They  told  me  tliou  wert  dead  —  why,  A/.IM,  why 
Did  we  not,  l>oth  of  us,  that  instant  die 
Wheri  \ve  were  parted  ?     Oh  !  eouldst  tliou  but  know 
With  what  a  deep  devotedness  of  woe 
I  wept  thy  absence  —  o'er  and  o'er  again 


Thinking  of  thee,  still  thee,  till  thought  grew  pain, 
And  memory,  like  a  drop  that,  night  and  day, 
Falls  cold  and  ceaseless,  wore  my  heart  away. 
Didst  thou  but  know  how  pale  I  sat  at  home, 
My  eyes  still  turn'd  the  way  thou  wert  to  come, 
And,  all  the  long,  long  night  of  hope  and  fear, 
Thy  voice  and  step  still  sounding  in  my  ear  — 

0  God  !  thou  wouldst  not  wonder  that,  at  last, 
When  every  hope  was  all  at  once  o'ercast, 
When  I  heard  frightful  voices  round  me  say, 
Azim  is  dead!  —  this  wretched  brain  gave  way, 
And  I  became  a  wreck,  at  random  driven, 
Without  one  glimpse  of  reason  or  of  Heaven  — 
All  wild  —  and  even  this  quenchless  love  within 
Turn'd  to  foul  fires  to  light  me  into  sin !  — 

Thou  pitiest  me  —  I  knew  thou  wouldst  —  that  sky 

Hath  nought  beneath  it  half  so  lorn  as  I. 

The  fiend  who  lur'd  me  hither  —  hist !  come  near, 

Or  thou  too,  thou  art  lost,  if  he  should  hear  — 

Told  me  such  things  —  oh!  with  such  devilish  art 

As  would  have  ruin'd  even  a  holier  heart  — 

Of  thee,  and  of  that  ever-radiant  sphere, 

Where  bless'd  at  length,  if  I  but  serv'd  him  here, 

1  should  forever  live  in  thy  dear  sight, 

And  drink  from  those  pure  eyes  eternal  light. 

Think,  think  hoAV  lost,  how  madden'd  I  must  be, 

To  hope  that  guilt  could  lead  to  God  or  thee  ! 

Thou  weep'st  for  me  —  do  weep  —  oh,  that  I  durst 

Kiss  off  that  tear !  but,  no  —  these  lips  are  curst, 

They  must  not  touch  thee ;  —  one  divine  caress, 

One  blessed  moment  of  forgetfulness 

I've  had  within  those  arms,  and  that  shall  lie, 

Shrin'd  in  my  soul's  deep  memory  till  I  die ; 

The  last  of  joy's  last  relics  here  below, 

The  one  sweet  drop,  in  all  this  waste  of  woe, 


My  heart  has  treasur'd  from  affection's  spring, 

To  soothe  and  cool  its  deadly  withering ! 

But  thou  —  yes,  thou  must  go  —  forever  go ; 

This  place  is  not  for  thee  —  for  thee  !  oh  no ! 

Did  I  but  tell  thee  half,  thy  tortur'd  brain 

Would  burn  like  mine,  and  mine  grow  wild  again  ! 

Enough,  that   Guilt   reigns  here  —  that   hearts,  once 


Now  tainted,  chill'd,  and  broken,  are  his  food.  — 
Enough,  that  we  are  parted  —  that  there  rolls 
A  flood  of  headlong  fate  between  our  souls, 
Whose  darkness  severs  me  as  wide  from  thee 
As  hell  from  heaven,  to  all  eternity  ! " 

"  ZELICA,  ZELICA  ! "  the  youth  cxclaim'd, 
In  all  the  tortures  of  a  mind  iunaiu'd 
Almost  to  madness  —  "by  that  sacred  Heaven, 
Where  yet,  if  prayers  can  move,  thou'lt  be  forgiven, 
As  thou  art  here  — here,  in  this  writhing  heart, 
All  sinful,  wild,  and  ruin'd  as  thou  art ! 
liy  the  remembrance  of  our  once  pure  love, 
Which,  like  a  churchyard  light,  still  burns  above 
The  grave  of  our  lost  souls  —  which  guilt  in  thee 
Cannot  extinguish,  nor  despair  in  me! 
I  do  conjure,  implore  thee  to  fly  hence  — 
If  thou  hast  yet  one  spark  of  innocence, 
Fly  with  me  from  this  place  — 

"With  thee!  oh  bliss! 

'Tis  worth  whole  years  of  torment  to  hear  this. 
What !  take  the  lost  one  with  thee  ?  —  let  her  rove 
15y  thy  dear  side,  as  in  those  days  of  love, 
Wlien  we  were  both  so  happy,  both  so  pure  — 
Too  heavenly  dream  !  if  there's  on  earth  a  cure 
For  the  sunk  heart,  'tis  this  —  day  after  day 
To  be  tho  blest  companion  of  thy  way; 


To  hear  thy  angel  eloquence  —  to  see 

Those  virtuous  eyes  forever  turn'd  on  me ; 

And,  in  their  light  re-chasten'd  silently, 

Like  the  stain'd  web  that  whitens  in  the  sun, 

Grow  pure  by  being  purely  shone  upon ! 

And  thou  wilt  pray  for  me  —  I  know  thou  wilt  — 

At  the  dim  vesper  hour,  when  thoughts  of  guilt 

Come  heaviest  o'er  the  heart,  thou'lt  lift  thine  eyes, 

Full  of  sweet  tears,  unto  the  dark'ning  skies, 

And  plead  for  me  with  Heaven,  till  I  can  dare 

To  fix  my  own  weak,  sinful  glances  there ; 

Till  the  good  angels,  when  they  see  me  cling 

Forever  near  thee,  pale  and  sorrowing, 

Shall  for  thy  sake  pronounce  my  soul  forgiven, 

And  bid  thee  take  thy  weeping  slave  to  Heaven ! 

Oh  yes,  I'll  fly  with  thee " 

Scarce  had  she  said 

These  breathless  words,  when  a  voice  deep  and  dread 
As  that  of  MOXKER,  waking  up  the  dead 
From  their  first  sleep  —  so  startling  'twas  to  both  — 
Kung  through  the  casement  near,  "Thy  oath!   thy 

oath ! " 

Oh  Heaven,  the  ghastliness  of  that  Maid's  look !  — 
"  'Tis  he,"  faintly  she  cried,  while  terror  shook 
Her  inmost  core,  nor  durst  she  lift  her  eyes, 
Though  through  the  casement,  now,  nought  but  the 


And  moonlit  fields  were  seen,  calm  as  before  — 
"'Tis  he,  and  I  am  his  —  all,  all  is  o'er  — 
Go  —  fly  this  instant,  or  thou'rt  ruin'd  too  — 
My  oath,  my  oath,  0  God !  'tis  all  too  true, 
True  as  the  worm  in  this  cold  heart  it  is  — 
I  am  MOKANNA'S  bride  —  his,  AZIM,  his  — 
The  Dead  stood  round  us,  while  I  spoke  that  vow  ; 


Their  blue  lips  echo'd  it  —  I  hear  them  now ! 
Their  eyes  glar'd  on  me,  while  I  pledg'd  that  bowl : 
'Twas  burning  blood  —  I  feel  it  in  my  soul ! 
And  the  Veil'd  Bridegroom  —  hist !  I've  seen  to-night 
What  angels  know  not  of  —  so  foul  a  sight, 
So  horrible  —  oh !  never  may'st  thou  see 
What  there  lies  hid  from  all  but  hell  and  me ! 
But  I  must  hence  —  off,  off  —  I  am  not  thine, 
Nor  Heaven's,  nor  Love's,  nor  aught  that  is  divine  — 
Hold  me  not  —  ha!  think'st  thou  the  fiends  that  sever 
Hearts,   cannot    sunder    hands  ?  —  thus,   then  —  for- 

With  all  that  strength  which  madness  lends  the 


She  flung  away  his  arm ;  and,  with  a  shriek, 
Whose  sound,  though  he  should  linger  out  more  years 
Than  wretch  e'er  told,  can  never  leave  his  ears  — 
Flew  up  through  that  long  avenue  of  light, 
Fleetly  as  some  dark,  ominous  bird  of  night 
Across  the  sun,  and  soon  was  out  of  sight ! 


LALLA  ROOKH  could  think  of  nothing  all  day  but  the 
misery  of  these  two  young  lovers.  Her  gayety  "was 
gone,  and  she  looked  pensively  even  upon  FADLADEEN. 
She  felt,  too,  without  knowing  why,  a  sort  of  uneasy 
pleasure  in  imagining  that  AZIM  must  have  been  just 
such  a  youth  as  FERAMORZ  ;  just  as  worthy  to  enjoy  all 
the  blessings,  without  any  of  the  pangs,  of  that  illusive 
passion  which  too  often,  like  the  sunny  apples  of  Istka- 
har,96  is  all  sweetness  on  one  side,  and  all  bitterness  on 
the  other. 

As  they  passed  along  a  sequestered  river  after  sunset, 
they  saw  a  young  Hindoo  girl  upon  the  bank,97  whose 
employment  seemed  to  them  so  strange  that  they  stopped 
their  palankeens  to  observe  her.  She  had  lighted  a 
small  lamp,  filled  with  oil  of  cocoa,  and,  placing  it  in  an 
earthen  dish,  adorned  with  a  wreath  of  flowers,  had 
committed  it  with  a  trembling  hand  to  the  stream ;  and 
was  now  anxiously  watching  its  progress  down  the 
current,  heedless  of  the  gay  cavalcade  which  had  drawn 
up  beside  her.  LALLA  ROOKH  was  all  curiosity ; —  when 
one  of  her  attendants,  who  had  lived  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Ganges  (where  this  ceremony  is  so  frequent,  that 
often,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  the  river  is  seen  glit- 
tering all  over  with  lights,  like  the  Oton-tala,  or  Sea  of 
Stars98),  informed  the  Princess  that  it  was  the  usual 
way  in  which  the  friends  of  those  who  had  gone  on 
dangerous  voyages  offered  up  vows  for  their  safe  return. 
If  the  lamp  sunk  immediately,  the  omen  was  disastrous ; 
but  if  it  went  shining  down  the  stream,  and  continued  to 
burn  until  entirely  out  of  sight,  the  return  of  the  beloved 
object  was  considered  as  certain. 


LALLA  ROOKH,  as  they  moved  on,  more  than  on  -e 
looked  back  to  observe  how  the  young  Hindoo's  lamp 
proceeded ;  and,  while  she  saw  with  pleasure  that  it  was 
still  unextinguished,  she  could  not  help  fearing  that  all 
the  hopes  of  this  life  were  no  better  than  that  feeble 
light  upon  the  river.  The  remainder  of  the  journey  was 
passed  in  silence.  She  now,  for  the  first  time,  felt  that 
shade  of  melancholy  which  comes  over  the  youthful 
maiden's  heart,  as  sweet  and  transient  as  her  own  breath 
upon  a  mirror;  nor  was  it  till  she  heard  the  lute  of 
FEK  AMORZ,  touched  lightly  at  the  door  of  her  pavilion,  that 
she  waked  from  the  reverie  in  which  she  had  been  wan- 
dering. Instantly  her  eyes  were  lighted  up  with  pleasure ; 
and  after  a  few  unheard  remarks  from  FADLADEEX,  upon 
the  indecorum  of  a  poet  seating  himself  in  presence  of  a 
Princess,  everything  was  arranged  as  on  the  preceding 
evening,  and  all  listened  with  eagerness,  while  the  story 
was  thus  continued :  — 


WHOSE  are  the  gilded  tents  that  crown  the  way, 

Where  all  was  waste  and  silent  yesterday  ? 

This  City  of  War,  which,  in  a  few  short  hours, 

Hath  sprung  up  here,"  as  if  the  magic  powers 

Of  Him  who,  in  the  twinkling  of  a  star, 

Built  the  high  pillar' d  halls  of  CHILMINAK,IO° 

Had  conjur'd  up,  far  as  the  eye  can  see, 

This    world    of    tents,    and    domes,   and    sun-bright 

armory :  — 

Princely  pavilions,  screen'd  by  many  a  fold 
Of  crimson  cloth,  and  topp'd  with  balls  of  gold :  — 
Steeds,  with  their  housings  of  rich  silver  spun, 
Their  chains  and  poitrels,  glittering  in  the  sun ; 
And  camels,  tufted  o'er  with  Yemen's  shells,101 
Shaking  in  every  breeze  their  light-tbn'd  bells ! 

But  yester-eve,  so  motionless  around, 
So  mute  was  this  wide  plain,  that  not  a  sound 
But  the  far  torrent,  or  the  locust  bird 102 
Hunting  among  the  thickets,  could  be  heard ;  — 
Yet  hark  !  what  discords  now,  of  every  kind, 
Shouts,  laughs,  and  screams  are  revelling  in  the  wind  ; 
The  neigh  of  cavalry;  —  the  tinkling  throngs 
Of  laden  camels  and  their  drivers'  songs ; 103  — 
Kinging  of  arms,  and  flapping  in  the  breeze 
Of  streamers  from  ten  thousand  canopies ;  — 
War  music,  bursting  out  from  time  to  time, 
With  gong  and  tymbalon's  tremendous  chime;  — 
Or,  in  the  pause,  when  harsher  sounds  are  mute, 
The  mellow  breathings  of  some  horn  or  flute, 


That  far  off,  broken  by  the  eagle  note 

Of  the  Abyssinian  trumpet,104  swell  and  float. 

Who  leads  this  mighty  army  ?  —  ask  ye  "  who  ?  " 
And  mark  ye  not  those  banners  of  dark  hue, 
The  Night  and  Shadow,106  over  yonder  tent  ?  — 
It  is  the  CALIPH'S  glorious  armament. 
Roused  in  his  Palace  by  the  dread  alarms, 
That  hourly  came,  of  the  false  Prophet's  arms, 
And  of  his  host  of  infidels,  who  hurl'd 
Defiance  fierce  at  ISLAM  106  and  the  world,  — 
Though  worn  with  Grecian  warfare,  and  behind 
The  veils  of  his  bright  Palace  calm  reclin'd, 
Yet  brook'd  he  not  such  blasphemy  should  stain, 
Thus  unreveng'd,  the  evening  of  his  reign ; 
But,  having  sworn  upon  the  Holy  Grave 10T 
To  conquer  or  to  perish,  once  more  gave 
His  shadowy  banners  proudly  to  the  breeze, 
And  with  an  army,  nurs'd  in  victories, 
Here  stands  to  crush  the  rebels  that  o'errun 
His  blest  and  beauteous  Province  of  the  Sun. 

Ne'er  did  the  march  of  MAHADI  display 
Such  pomp  be  fore  ;  — not  even  when  on  his  way 
To  MKCOA'S  Temple,  when  both  land  and  sea 
Were  spoil'd  to  feed  the  Pilgrim's  luxury  ; 108 
When  round  him,  'mid  the  burning  sands,  he  saw 
Fruits  of  the  North  in  icy  freshness  thaw, 
And  cool'd  his  thirsty  lip,  beneath  the  glow 
Of  MECCA'S  sun,  with  urns  of  Persian  snow:10*  — 
Nor  e'er  did  armament  more  grand  than  that 
Pour  from  the  kingdoms  of  the  (,'aliphat. 
First,  in  the  van,  the  People  of  the  IJock,110 
On  their  light  mountain  steeds,  of  royal  stock:111 
Then,  chieftains  of  DAMASCUS,  proud  to  see 


The  flashing  of  their  swords'  rich  marquetry ; 112  — 
Men,  from  the  regions  near  the  VOLGA'S  mouth, 
Mix'd  with  the  rude,  black  archers  of  the  South ; 
And  Indian  lancers,  in  white-turban'd  ranks, 
From  the  far  SINDE,  or  ATTOCK'S  sacred  banks, 
"With  dusky  legions  from  the  land  of  Myrrh,118 
And  many  a  mace-arm'd  Moor  and  Mid-sea  islander. 

Nor  less  in  number,  though  more  new  and  rude 
In  warfare's  school,  was  the  vast  multitude 
That,  fir'd  by  zeal,  or  by  oppression  wrong'd, 
Hound  the  white  standard  of  the  Impostor  throng'd. 
Beside  his  thousands  of  Believers  —  blind, 
Burning  and  headlong  as  the  Samiel  wind  — 
Many  who  felt,  and  more  who  fear'd  to  feel 
The  bloody  Islamite's  converting  steel, 
Flock'd  to  his  banner ;  —  Chiefs  of  the  UZBEK  race, 
Waving  their  heron  crests  with  martial  grace ; m 
TURKOMANS,  countless  as  their  flocks,  led  forth 
From  the  aromatic  pastures  of  the  North ; 
Wild  warriors  of  the  turquoise  hills,115  —  and  those 
Who  dwell  beyond  the  everlasting  snows 
Of  HINDOO  Kosii,116  in  stormy  freedom  bred, 
Their  fort  the  rock,  their  camp  the  torrent's  bed. 
But  none,  of  all  who  own'd  the  Chief's  command, 
Rush'd  to  that  battle-field  with  bolder  hand, 
Or  sterner  hate,  than  IRAN'S  outlaw'd  men, 
Her  Worshippers  of  Fire 11T  —  all  panting  then 
For  vengeance  on  the  accursed  Saracen  ; 
Vengeance  at  last  for  their  dear  country  spurn'd, 
Her  throne  usurp'd,  and  her  bright  shrines  o'eiturn'tn 
From  YEZD'S  118  eternal  Mansion  of  the  Fire, 
Where  aged  saints  in  dreams  of  Heaven  expire : 
From  BADKU,  and  those  fountains  of  blue  flame 
That  burn  into  the  CASPIAN, 119  fierce  they  came, 


Careless  for  what  or  whom  the  blow  was  sped, 
So  vengeance  triumph'd,  and  their  tyrants  bled. 

Such  was  the  wild  and  miscellaneous  host, 
That  high  in  air  their  motley  banners  tost 
Around  the  Prophet-Chief  —  all  eyes  still  bent 
Upon  that  glittering  Veil,  Avhere'er  it  went, 
That  beacon  through  the  battle's  stormy  flood, 
That  rainbow  of  the  field,  whose  showers  were  blood. 

Twice  hath  the  sun  upon  their  conflict  set, 
And  risen  again,  and  found  them  grappling  yet; 
While  streams  of  carnage,  in  his  noontide  blaze, 
Smoke  up  to  Heaven  —  hot  as  that  crimson  haze 
By  which  the  prostrate  Caravan  is  aw'd,120 
In  the  red  Desert,  when  the  wind's  abroad. 
"On,  Swords  of  God!"  the  panting  CALIPH  calls, — 
"  Thrones  for  the  living  —  Heaven  for  him  who  falls ! " 
"  On,  brave  avengers,  on,"  MOKAXXA  cries, 
"And  EBLIS  blast  the  recreant  slave  that  flies!" 
Now  comes  the  brunt,  the  crisis  of  the  day  — 
They  clash  —  they  strive  —  the  CALIPH'S  troops  give 

way  ! 

MOKANXA'S  self  plucks  the  black  Banner  down, 
And  now  the  Orient  World's  Imperial  crown 
Is  just  within  his  grasp  —  when,  hark,  that  shout! 
Some  hand  hath  rheck'd  the  flying  Moslems'  rout; 
And  now  they  turn,  they  rally  —  at  their  head 
A  warrior,  (like  those  angel  youths  who  led, 
In  glorious  panoply  of  heaven's  own  mail, 
The  Champions  of  the  Faith  through  BKDKK'S  vale,1"1) 
Bold  as  if  gifted  with  ten  thousand  lives, 
Turns  on  the  fierce  pursuers'  blades,  and  drives 
At  once  the  multitudinous  torrent  back  — 
While  hope  and  courage  kindle  in  his  track; 


And,  at  each  step,  his  bloody  falchion  makes 
Terrible  vistas  through  which  victory  breaks ! 
In  vain  MOKANNA,  'midst  the  general  flight, 
Stands,  like  the  red  moon,  on  some  stormy  night, 
Among  the  fugitive  clouds  that,  hurrying  by, 
Leave  only  her  unshaken  in  the  sky  — 
In  vain  he  yells  his  desperate  curses  out, 
Deals  death  promiscuously  to  all  about, 
To  foes  that  charge  and  coward  friends  that  fly, 
And  seems  of  all  the  Great  Arch-enemy. 
The  panic  spreads  —  "  A  miracle  ! "  throughout 
The  Moslem  ranks,  "  a  miracle  ! "  they  shout, 
All  gazing  on  that  youth,  whose  coming  seems 
A  light,  a  glory,  such  as  breaks  in  dreams ; 
And  every  sword,  true  as  o'er  billows  dim 
The  needle  tracks  the  lodestar,  following  him ! 

Eight  tow'rds  MOKANNA"  now  he  cleaves  his  path, 
Impatient  cleaves,  as  though  the  bolt  of  wrath 
He  bears  from  Heaven  withheld  its  awful  burst 
From  weaker  heads,  and  souls  but  half  way  curst, 
To  break  o'er  Him,  the  mightiest  and  the  worst ! 
But  vain  his  speed  —  though,  in  that  hour  of  blood, 
Had  all  God's  seraphs  round  MOKANNA  stood, 
With  swords  of  fire,  ready  like  fate  to  fall, 
MOKANNA'S  soul  would  have  defied  them  all ; 
Yet  now,  the  rush  of  fugitives,  too  strong 
For  human  force,  hurries  even  him  along ; 
In  vain  he  struggles  'mid  the  wedg'd  array 
Of  flying  thousands  —  he  is  borne  away ; 
And  the  sole  joy  his  baffled  spirit  knows, 
In  this  forc'd  flight,  is  —  murdering  as  he  goes  ! 
As  a  grim  tiger,  whom  the  torrent's  might 
Surprises  in  some  parch'd  ravine  at  night, 
Turns,  even  in  drowning,  on  the  wretched  flocks, 


Swept  with  him  in  that  snow-flood  from  the  rocks, 
And,  to  the  last,  devouring  on  his  way, 
Bloodies  the  stream  he  hath  not  power  to  stay. 

"Alia  ilia  Alia! "  —the  glad  shout  renew  — 
"Alia  Akbar!"122  — the  Caliph's  in  MEROU. 
Hang  out  your  gilded  tapestry  in  the  streets, 
And  light  your  shrines  and  chant  your  ziraleets.121 
The  Swords  of  God  have  triumph'd  —  on  his  throne 
Your  Caliph  sits,  and  the  Veil'd  Chief  hath  flown. 
Who  does  not  envy  that  young  warrior  now, 
To  whom  the  Lord  of  Islam  bends  his  brow, 
In  all  the  graceful  gratitude  of  power, 
For  his  throne's  safety  in  that  perilous  hour  ? 
Who  doth  not  wonder,  when,  amidst  the  acclaim 
Of  thousands,  heralding  to  heaven  his  name  — 
'Mid  all  those  holier  harmonies  of  fame, 
Which  sound  along  the  path  of  virtuous  souls, 
Like  music  round  a  planet  as  it  rolls,  — 
He  turns  away  —  coldly,  as  if  some  gloom 
Hung  o'er  his  heart  no  triumphs  can  illume;  — 
Som«;  sightless  grief,  upon  whose  bhisted  gaze 
Though  (Jlory's  light  may  play,  in  vain  it  plays  ? 
Yes,  wretched  AZIM  !  thine  is  such  a  grief, 
Beyond  all  hope,  all  terror,  all  relief; 
A  dark,  cold  calm,  which  nothing  now  can  break, 
Or  warm  or  brighten, — like  that  Syrian  Lak.-,124 
Upon  whose  surface  morn  and  summer  shed 
Their  smiles  in  vain,  for  all  beneath  is  dead  !  — 
Hearts  there  have  been,  o'er  which  this  weight  of  woe 
Came  by  long  use  of  suffering,  tame  and  slow  ; 
But  thine,  lost  youth  !  was  sudden  — over  thce 
It  broke  at  once,  when  all  seem'd  ecstasy ; 
When  Hope  look'd  up,  and  saw  the  gloomy  Vast 
Melt  into  splendor,  and  I'.liss  dawn  at  hust  — 


'Twas  then,  even  then,  o'er  joys  so  freshly  blown, 
This  mortal  blight  of  misery  came  down ; 
Even  then,  the  full,  warm  gushings  of  thy  heart 
Were   check'd  —  like   fount-drops,   frozen   as   they 

start  — 

And  there,  like  them,  cold,  sunless  relics  hang, 
Each  fix'd  and  chill'd  into  a  lasting  pang. 

One  sole  desire,  one  passion  now  remains 
To  keep  life's  fever  still  within  his  veins, 
Vengeance !  —  dire  vengeance   on   the   wretch  who 


O'er  him  and  all  he  lov'd  that  ruinous  blast. 
For  this,  when  rumors  reach'd  him  in  his  flight 
Far,  far  away,  after  that  fatal  night,  — 
Rumors  of  armies,  thronging  to  the  attack 
Of  the  Veil'd  Chief,  —  for  this  he  wing'd  him  back, 
Fleet  as  the  vulture  speeds  to  flags  unfurl'd, 
And,  when  all  hope  seem'd  desperate,  wildly  hurl'd 
Himself  into  the  scale,  and  saved  a  world. 
For  this  he  still  lives  on,  careless  of  all 
The  wreaths  that  Glory  on  his  path  lets  fall ; 
For  this  alone  exists  —  like  lightning-fire, 
To  speed  one  bolt  of  vengeance,  and  expire ! 

,  But  safe  as  yet  that  Spirit  of  Evil  lives ; 
With  a  small  band  of  desperate  fugitives, 
The  last  sole  stubborn  fragment,  left  unriven, 
Of  the  proud  host  that  late  stood  fronting  Heaven, 
He  gain'd  MEROU  —  breath'd  a  short  curse  of  blood 
O'er  his  lost  throne  —  then  pass'd  the  JIHON'S  flood,121 
And  gathering  all,  whose  madness  of  belief 
Still  saw  a  Saviour  in  their  down-fall'n  Chief, 
Rais'd  the  white  banner  within  NEKSHEB'S  gates,128 
And  there,  untam'd,  the  approaching  conqu'ror  waits. 


Of  all  his  H?.ram,  all  that  busy  hive, 
With  music  ar  .1  with  sweets  sparkling  alive, 
He  took  but  oie,  the  partner  of  his  flight, 
One — not  fci  love  —  not  for  her  beauty's  light  — 
No,  ZEL'CA  stood  withering  'midst  the  gay, 
Wan  as  «he  blossom  that  fell  yesterday 
From  tlie  Alma  tree  and  dies,  while  overhead 
To-day's  young  flower  is  springing  in  its  stead.127 
Oh,  not  for  love  —  the  deepest  Damn'd  must  be 
Touch'd  with  Heaven's  glory,  ere  such  fiends  as  he 
Can  feel  one  glimpse  of  Love's  divinity. 
But  no,  she  is  his  victim ;  there  lie  all 
Her  charms  for  him  —  charms  that  can  never  pall, 
As  long  as  hell  within  his  heart  can  stir, 
Or  one  faint  trace  of  Heaven  is  left  in  her. 
To  work  an  angel's  ruin,  —  to  behold 
As  white  a  page  as  Virtue  e'er  unroll'd 
Blacken,  beneath  his  touch,  into  a  scroll 
Of  damning  sins,  seal'd  with  a  burning  soul  — 
This  is  his  triumph ;  this  the  joy  accurst, 
That  ranks  him  among  demons  all  but  first: 
This  gives  the  victim,  that  before  him  lies 
Blighted  and  lost,  a  glory  in  his  eyes, 
A  light  like;  that  with  which  hell-lire  illumes 
The  ghastly,  writhing  wretch  whom  it  consumes ! 

But  other  tasks  now  wait  him  —  tasks  that  need 
All  the  deep  daringness  of  thought  and  deeu 
With  which  the  Dives128  have  gii'ted  him  —  for  mark, 
Over  yon  plains,  which  night  had  else  made  dark, 
Those  lanterns,  countless  :us  the  winged  lights 
That  spangle  INDIA'S  fields  on  showery  nights,129  — 
Far  lus  their  formidable  gleams  they  shed, 
The  mighty  tents  of  the  beleajjuerer  spread, 
Glimmering  along  the  horizon's  dusky  line, 


And  thence  in  nearer  circles,  till  they  shine 

Among  the  founts  and  groves,  o'er  which  the  town 

In  all  its  arm'd  magnificence  looks  down. 

Yet,  fearless,  from  his  lofty  battlements 

MOKANNA  views  that  multitude  of  tents  ; 

Nay,  smiles  to  think  that,  though  entoiFd,  beset, 

Not  less  than  myriads  dare  to  front  him  yet ;  — 

That  friendless,  throneless,  he  thus  stands  at  bay, 

Even  thus  a  match  for  myriads  such  as  they. 

"  Oh,  for  a  sweep  of  that  dark  Angel's  wing, 

Who  brush'd  the  thousands  of  the  Assyrian  King  18° 

To  darkness  in  a  moment,  that  I  might 

People  Hell's  chambers  with  yon  host  to-night ! 

But,  come  what  may,  let  who  will  grasp  the  throne, 

Caliph  or  Prophet,  Man  alike  shall  groan ; 

Let  who  will  torture  him  —  Priest,  Caliph,  King  — 

Alike  this  loathsome  world  of  his  shall  ring 

With  victims'  shrieks,  and  bowlings  of  the  slave,  — 

Sounds  that  shall  glad  me  even  within  my  grave ! " 

Thus,  to  himself ;  but  to  the  scanty  train 

Still  left  around  him,  a  far  different  strain :  — 

"  Glorious  Defenders  of  the  sacred  Crown 

I    bear  from  Heaven,  whose  light  nor  blood  sha"" 


Nor  shadow  of  earth  eclipse ;  —  before  whose  gems 
The  paly  pomp  of  this  world's  diadems, 
The  crown  of  GERASHID,  the  pillar'd  throne 
Of  PARviz,181  and  the  heron  crest  that  shone,182 
Magnificent,  o'er  ALI'S  beauteous  eyes,133 
Fade  like  the  stars  when  morn  is  in  the  skies : 
Warriors,  rejoice  — the  port  to  which  we've  pass'd 
O'er  Destiny's  dark  wave,  beams  out  at  last ! 
Victory's  our  own  —  'tis  written  in  that  Book 
Upon  whose  leaves  none  but  the  angels  look, 
That  ISLAM'S  sceptre  shall  beneath  the  power 


Of  her  great  foe  fall  broken  in  that  hour, 
When  the  moon's  mighty  orb,  before  all  eyes, 
From  NEKSHEB'S  Holy  Well  portentously  shall  rise ! 

Now  turn  and  see  !  " 

They  turn'd,  and,  as  he  spoke, 
A  sudden  splendor  all  around  them  broke, 
And  they  beheld  an  orb,  ample  and  bright, 
Rise  from  the  Holy  Well,134  and  cast  its  light 
Round  the  rich  city  and  the  plain  for  miles,185  — 
Flinging  such  radiance  o'er  the  gilded  tiles 
Of  many  a  dome  and  fair-roof'd  minaret 
As  autumn  suns  shed  round  them  when  they  set. 
Instant  from  all  who  saw  the  illusive  sign 
A  murmur  broke  —  "  Miraculous  !  divine  ! " 
The  Gheber  bow'd,  thinking  his  idol  star 
Had  wak'd  and  burst  impatient  through  the  bar 
Of  midnight,  to  inflame  him  to  the  war ; 
While  he  of  MOUSSA'S  creed  saw,  in  that  ray, 
The  glorious  Light  which,  in  his  freedom's  day, 
Had  rested  on  the  Ark,186  and  now  again 
Shone  out  to  bless  the  breaking  of  his  chain. 

"  To  victory  !  "  is  at  once  the  cry  of  all  — 
Nor  stands  MOKAXXA  loitering  at  that  call; 
Hut  instant  the  huge  gates  are  flung  aside, 
And  forth,  like  a  diminutive  mountain-tide 
Into  the  boundless  sea,  they  speed  their  course 
Right  on  into  the  MOSLKM'S  mighty  force. 
The  watchmen  of  the  camp.  —  who,  in  their  rounds, 
Had  paus'd,  and  even  forgot  the  punctual  sounds 
Of  the  small  drum  with  which  they  count  the  night,1" 
To  gaze  upon  that  supernatural  light, — 
Now  sink  beneath  an  unexpected  arm. 
And  in  a  death-groan  give  their  last  alarm. 
"  On  for  the  lamps,  that  light  yon  lofty  screen,111 

84  LALLA  EOOKn. 

Nor  blunt  your  blades  with  massacre  so  mean ; 
There  rests  the  CALIPH  —  speed  —  one  lucky  lance 
May  now  achieve  mankind's  deliverance." 
Desperate  the  die  —  such  as  they  only  cast 
Who  venture  for  a  world,  and  stake  their  last. 
But  Fate's  no  longer  with  him  —  blade  for  blade 
Springs   up   to  meet  them   through   the  glimmering 


And,  as  the  clash  is  heard,  new  legions  soon 
Pour  to  the  spot,  like  bees  of  KAUZEROON  139 
To  the  shrill  timbrel's  summons,  —  till,  at  length, 
The  mighty  camp  swarms  out  in  all  its  strength, 
And  back  to  XEKSHEB'S  gates,  covering  the  plain 
With  random  slaughter,  drives  the  adventurous  train ; 
Among  the  last  of  whom  the  Silver  Veil 
Is  seen  glittering  at  times,  like  the  white  sail 
Of  some  toss'd  vessel,  on  a  stormy  night, 
Catching  the  tempest's  momentary  light ! 

And  hath  not  this  brought  the  proud  spirit  low  ? 
Nor  dash'd  his  brow,  nor  check'd  his  daring  ?     No. 
Though  half  the  wretches,  whom  at  night  he  led 
To  thrones  and  victory,  lie  disgrac'd  and  dead, 
Yet  morning  hears  him,  with  unshrinking  crest, 
Still  vaunt  of  thrones  and  victory. to  the  rest ;  — 
And  they  believe  him  !  —  oh,  the  lover  may 
Distrust  that  look  which  steals  his  soul  away ;  — 
The  babe  may  cease  to  think  that  it  can  play 
With  Heaven's  rainbow  ;  —  alchymists  may  doubt 
The  shining  gold  their  crucible  gives  out ; 
But  Faith,  fanatic  Faith,  once  wedded  fast 
To  some  dear  falsehood,  hugs  it  to  the  last. 

And  well  the  Impostor  knew  all  lures  and  arts 
That  LUCIFER  e'er  taught  to  tangle  hearts  ; 


Nor,  'mid  these  last  bold  workings  of  his  plot 

Against  men's  souls,  is  ZELICA  forgot. 

Ill-fated  ZELICA  !  had  reason  been 

Awake,  through  half  the  horrors  thou  hast  seen, 

Thou  never  couldst  have  borne  it  —  Death  had  come 

At  once,  and  taken  thy  wrung  spirit  home. 

But  'twas  not  so  —  a  torpor,  a  suspense 

Of  thought,  almost  of  life,  canie  o'er  the  intense 

And  passionate  struggles  of  that  fearful  night, 

When  her  last  hope  of  peace  and  heaven  took  flight : 

And  though,  at  times,  a  gleam  of  frenzy  broke,  — 

As  through  some  dull  volcano's  veil  of  smoke 

Ominous  flashings  now  and  then  will  start, 

Which  show  the  fire's  still  busy  at  its  heart,  — 

Yet  was  she  mostly  wrapp'd  in  solemn  gloom ; 

Not  such  as  AZIM'S,  brooding  o'er  its  doom, 

And  calm  without,  as  is  the  brow  of  death, 

While  busy  worms  are  gnawing  underneath,  — 

But  in  a  blank  and  pulseless  torpor,  free 

From  thought  or  pain,  a  seal'd-up  apathy, 

Which  left  her  oft,  with  scarce  one  living  thrill, 

The  cold,  pale  victim  of  her  torturer's  will. 

Again,  as  in  MKROU,  lie  had  her  deck'd 
Gorgeously  out,  the  Priestess  of  the  sect ; 
And  led  her  glittering  forth  before  the  eyes 
Of  his  rude  train,  as  to  a  sacrifice. — 
Pallid  as  she,  the  young,  devoted  Bride 
Of  the  fierce  NILE,  when,  deek'd  in  all  the  pride 
Of  nuptial  pomp,  she  sinks  into  his  tide.140 
And  while  the  wretched  maid  hung  down  her  head, 
And  stood,  ;us  one  just  risen  from  the  dead. 
Amid  that  ga/iiig  crowd,  the  fiend  would  tell 
His  credulous  slaves  it  was  some  charm  or  spell 
Poasess'd  hwr  now,  —  and  from  that  darkuu'd  trance 


Should  dawn  ere  long  their  Faith's  deliverance. 

Or  if,  at  times,  goaded  by  guilty  shame, 

Her  soul  was  rous'd,  and  words  of  wildness  came, 

Instant  the  bold  blasphemer  would  translate 

Her  ravings  into  oracles  of  fate,  — 

Would  hail  Heaven's  signals  in  her  flashing  eyes, 

And  call  her  shrieks  the  language  of  the  skies ! 

But  vain  at  length  his  arts  —  despair  is  seen 
Gathering  around;  and  famine  comes  to  glean 
All  that  the  sword  had  left  unreap'd :  —  in  vain 
At  morn  and  eve  across  the  northern  plain 
He  looks  impatient  for  the  promis'd  spears 
Of  the  wild  Hordes  and  TARTAR  mountaineers ; 
They  come  not  —  while  his  fierce  beleaguerers  pour 
Engines  of  havoc  in,  unknown  before,141 
And  horrible  as  new; 142 —  javelins,  that  fly 
Enwreath'd  with  smoky  flames  through  the  dark  sky, 
And  red-hot  globes,  that,  opening  as  they  mount, 
Discharge,  as  from  a  kindled  Naphtha  fount,148 
Showers  of  consuming  fire  o'er  all  below ; 
Looking,  as  through  the  illumin'd  night  they  go, 
Like  those  wild  birds 144  that  by  the  Magians  oft, 
At  festivals  of  fire,  were  sent  aloft 
Into  the  air,  with  blazing  fagots  tied 
To  their  huge  wings,  scattering  combustion  wide. 
All  night  the  groans  of  wretches  who  expire 
In  agony,  beneath  these  darts  of  fire, 
Ring  through  the  city  —  while,  descending  o'er 
Its  shrines  and  domes  and  streets  of  sycamore,  — 
Its  lone  bazaars,  with  their  bright  cloths  of  gold, 
Since  the  last  peaceful  pageant  left  unroll'd,  — 
Its  beauteous  marble  baths,  whose  idle  jets 
Now  gush  with  blood,  —  and  its  tall  minarets, 
That  late  have  stood  up  in  the  evening  glare 


Of  the  red  sun,  unhallow'd  by  a  prayer ;  — 
O'er  each,  in  turn,  the  dreadful  flame-bolts  fall, 
And  death  and  conflagration  throughout  all 
The  desolate  city  hold  high  festival ! 

MOKANNA  sees  the  world  is  his  no  more ;  — 
One  sting  at  parting,  and  his  grasp  is  o'er. 
"What!    drooping  now?" — thus,   with   unblushing 


He  hails  the  few,  who  yet  can  hear  him  speak, 
Of  all  those  famish'd  slaves  around  him  lying, 
And  by  the  light  of  blazing  temples  dying  ;  — 
"What!  —  drooping  now?  —  now,  when  at  length  we 


Home  o'er  the  very  threshold  of  success ; 
When  ALLA  from  our  ranks  hath  thinn'd  away 
Those  grosser  branches,  that  kept  out  his  ray 
Of  favor  from  us,  and  we  stand  at  length 
Heirs  of  his  light  and  children  of  his  strength, 
The  chosen  few,  who  shall  survive  the  fall 
Of  Kings  and  Thrones,  triumphant  over  all ! 
Have  you  then  lost,  weak  murmurers  as  you  are, 
All  faith  in  him,  who  was  your  Light,  your  Star? 
Have  you  forgot  the  eye  of  glory,  hid 
"Beneath  this  Veil,  the  flashing  of  whose  lid 
Could,  like  a  sun-stroke  of  the  desert,  wither 
Millions  of  such  as  yonder  Chief  brings  hither? 
Long  have  its  lightnings  slept  —  too  long  —  but  now 
All  earth  shall  feel  the  unveiling  of  this  brow ! 
To-night  —  yes,  sainted  men!  this  very  night, 
I  bid  you  all  to  a  fair  festal  rite, 
Where  —  having  deep  refresh'd  each  weary  limb 
With  viands,  such  as  feast  Heaven's  cherubim, 
And  kindled  up  your  souls,  now  sunk  and  dim, 
With  that  pure  wine  the  Dark -eyed  Maids  above 


Keep,    seal'd    with  precious  musk,   for    those    they 

love,145  — 

I  will  myself  uncurtain  in  your  sight 
The  wonders  of  this  brow's  ineffable  light ; 
Then  lead  you  forth,  and  with  a  wink  disperse 
Yon  myriads,  howling  through  the  universe ! " 

Eager  they  listen,  while  each  accent  darts 
New  life  into  their  chill'd  and  hope-sick  hearts ; 
Such  treacherous  life  as  the  cool  draught  supplies 
To  him  upon  the  stake,  who  drinks  and  dies ! 
Wildly  they  point  their  lances  to  the  light 
Of  the  fast  sinking  sun,  and  shout  "  To-night ! "  — 
"  To-night !  "  their  Chief  re-echoes  in  a  voice 
Of  fiend-like  mockery  that  bids  hell  rejoice. 
Deluded  victims  !  —  never  hath  this  earth 
Seen  mourning  half  so  mournful  as  their  mirth. 
Here,  to  the  few,  whose  iron  frames  had  stood 
This  racking  waste  of  famine  and  of  blood, 
Faint,  dying  wretches  clung,  from  whom  the  shout 
Of  triumph  like  a  maniac's  laugh  broke  out :  — 
There,  others,  lighted  by  the  smould'ring  fire, 
Danc'd  like  wan  ghosts  about  a  funeral  pyre, 
Among  the  dead  and  dying,  strew'd  around ;  — 
While   some   pale   wretch   look'd   on,   and   from    his 


Plucking  the  fiery  dart  by  which  he  bled, 
In  ghastly  transport  wav'd  it  o'er  his  head ! 

'Twas  more  than  midnight  now  —  a  fearful  pause 
Had  follow'd  the  long  shouts,  the  wild  applause, 
That  lately  from  those  Royal  Gardens  burst, 
Where  the  Veil'd  demon  held  his  feast  accurst, 
When  ZELTCA  —  alas,  poor  ruin'd  heart, 
In  every  horror  doom'd  to  bear  its  part !  — 


Was  bidden  to  the  banquet  by  a  slave, 

Who,  while  his  quivering  lip  the  summons  gave, 

Grew  black,  as  though  the  shadows  of  the  grave 

Compass'd  him  round,  and,  ere  he  could  repeat 

His  message  through,  fell  lifeless  at  her  feet ! 

Shuddering  she  went  —  a  soul-felt  pang  of  fear, 

A  presage  that  her  own  dark  doom  was  near, 

Rous'd  every  feeling,  and  brought  Reason  back 

Once  more,  to  writhe  her  last  upon  the  rack. 

All  round  seem'd  tranquil  —  even  the  foe  had  ceas'd, 

As  if  aware  of  that  demoniac  feast, 

His  fiery  bolts ;  and  though  the  heavens  look'd  red, 

'Twas  but  some  distant  conflagration's  spread. 

But  hark  —  she  stops  —  she  listens  —  dreadful  tone, 

'Tis  her  Tormentor's  laugh  —  and  now,  a  groan, 

A  long  death-groan  comes  with  it :  —  can  this  be 

The  place  of  mirth,  the  bower  of  revelry  ? 

She  enters  —  Holy  ALLA,  what  a  sight 

Was  there  before  her !     By  the  glimmering  light 

Of  the  pale  dawn,  mix'd  with  the  flare  of  brands 

That  round  lay  burning,  dropp'd  from  lifeless  hands, 

She  saw  the  board,  in  splendid  mockery  spread, 

Rich  censers  breathing  —  garlands  overhead  — 

The  urns,  the  cups,  from  which  they  late  had  quaff  d, 

All  gold  and  gems,  but  —  what  had  been  the  draught  ? 

Oli !  who  need  ask,  that  saw  those  livid  guests, 

With    their   swoll'n   heads  sunk   black'ning  on  their 


Or  looking  pale  to  Heaven  with  glassy  glare, 
As  if  they  sought  but  saw  no  mercy  there ; 
As  if  they  felt,  though  poison  raek'd  them  through, 
Remorse  the  deadlier  torment  of  the  two! 
While  some,  the  bravest,  hardiest  of  the  train 
Of  their  false  Chief,  who  on  the  battle-plain 
Would  have  met  death  with  transport  by  his  side, 

90  LALLA  ROOKn. 

Here  mute  and  helpless  gasp'd  ;  —  but,  as  they  died, 
Look'd  horrible  vengeance  with  their  eyes'  last  strain, 
And  clench'd  the  slack'ning  hand  at  him  in  vain. 

Dreadful  it  was  to  see  the  ghastly  stare, 
The  stony  look  of  horror  and  despair, 
Which  some  of  these  expiring  victims  cast 
Upon  their  souls'  tormentor  to  the  last ;  — 
Upon  that  mocking  Fiend,  whose  Veil,  now  rais'd, 
Show'd  them,  as  in  death's  agony  they  gazed, 
Not  the  long  prornis'd  light,  the  brow,  whose  beaming 
Was  to  come  forth,  all  conquering,  all  redeeming, 
But  features  horribler  than  Hell  e'er  trac'd 
On  its  own  brood ;  —  no  Demon  of  the  Waste,146 
No  churchyard  Ghole,  caught  lingering  in  the  light 
Of  the  blest  sun,  e'er  blasted  human  sight 
With  lineaments  so  foul,  so  fierce  as  those 
The  Impostor,  now  in  grinning  mockery,  shows :  — 
"There,   ye   wise    Saints,    behold    your   Light,   youi 

Star  — 

Ye  would  be  dupes  and  victims,  and  ye  are. 
Is  it  enough  ?  or  must  I,  while  a  thrill 
Lives  in  your  sapient  bosoms,  cheat  you  still  ? 
Swear  that  the  burning  death  ye  feel  within 
Is  but  the  trance  with  which  Heaven's  joys  begin ; 
That  this  foul  visage,  foul  as  e'er  disgrac'd 
Even  monstrous  man,  is  —  after  God's  own  taste ; 
And  that  —  but  see  !  —  ere  I  have  half-way  said 
My  greetings  through,  the  uncourteous  souls  are  fled. 
Farewell,  sweet  spirits  !  not  in  vain  ye  die, 
If  EBLIS  loves  you  half  so  well  as  I.  — 
Ha,  my  young  bride  !  —  'tis  well  — take  thou  thy  seat; 
Kay,  come  —  no  shuddering  —  didst  thou  never  meet 
The  dead  before  ?  —  they  grac'd  our  wedding,  sweet ; 
And  these,  my  guests  to-night,  have  brimm'd  so  true 


Their  parting  cups,  that  thou  shalt  pledge  one  too. 

But  —  how  is  this  ?  —  all  empty  ?  all  drunk  up  ? 

Hot  lips  have  been  before  thee  in  the  cup, 

Young  bride,  —  yet  stay  —  one  precious  drop  remains, 

Enough  to  warm  a  gentle  Priestess'  veins :  — 

Here,  drink — and  should  thy  lover's  conquering  arms 

Speed  hither,  ere  thy  lip  lose  all  its  charms, 

Give  him  but  half  this  venom  in  thy  kiss, 

And  I'll  forgive  my  haughty  rival's  bliss ! 

"For  me  —  I  too  must  die  —  but  not  like  these 
Vile,  rankling  things,  to  fester  in  the  breeze ; 
To  have  this  brow  in  ruffian  triumph  shown, 
With  all  Death's  grimness  added  to  its  own, 
And  rot  to  dust  beneath  the  taunting  eyes 
Of  slaves,  exclaiming,  '  There  his  Godship  lies ! ' 
No  —  cursed  race  —  since  first  my  soul  drew  breath, 
They've  been  my  dupes,  and  shall  be  e'en  in  death. 
Thou  see'st  yon  cistern  in  the  shade  —  'tis  fill'd 
With  burning  drugs,  for  this  last  hour  distill'd: 147 
There  will  I  plunge  me,  in  that  liquid  flame  — 
Fit  bath  to  lave  a  dying  Prophet's  frame  !  — 
There  perish,  all  —  ere  pulse  of  thine  shall  fail  — 
Nor  leave  one  limb  to  tell  mankind  the  tale. 
So  shall  my  votaries,  wheresoeYr  they  rave, 
Proclaim  that  Heaven  took  back  the  Saint  it  gave;  — 
That  I've  but  vanish'd  from  this  earth  awhile, 
To  come  again,  with  bright,  unshrouded  smile  ! 
So  shall  they  build  me  altars  in  their  xeal, 
When-  knaves  shall  minister,  and  fools  shall  kneel; 
Where  Faith  may  mutter  o'er  her  mystic  spell, 
Written  in  blood  —  and  Higotry  may  swell 
The  sail  he  spreads  for  Heaven  with  blasts  from  hell! 
So  shall  my  banner,  through  long  ages,  be 
The  rallying  sign  of  fraud  and  anarchy  :  — 


Kings  yet  unborn  shall  rue  MOKANNA'S  name, 
And,  thougli  I  die,  my  spirit,  still  the  same, 
Shall  walk  abroad  in  all  the  stormy  strife, 
And  guilt,  and  blood,  that  were  its  bliss  in  life. 
But,  hark  !  their  battering  engine  shakes  the  wall  — 
Why,  let  it  shake  —  thus  I  can  brave  them  all. 
No  trace  of  me  shall  greet  them,  when  they  come, 
And  I  can  trust  thy  faith,  for  —  thou'lt  be  dumb. 
Now  mark  how  readily  a  wretch  like  me, 
In  one  bold  plunge,  commences  Deity  !  " 

He  sprung  and  sunk,  as  the  last  words  were  said  — 
Quick  clos'd  the  burning  waters  o'er  his  head, 
And  ZELICA  was  left  —  within  the  ring 
Of  those  wide  walls  the  only  living  thing ; 
The  only  wretched  one,  still  curs'd  with  breath, 
In  all  that  frightful  wilderness  of  death ! 
More  like  some  bloodless  ghost  —  such  as,  they  tell, 
In  the  lone  Cities  of  the  Silent 148  dwell, 
And  there,  unseen  of  all  but  ALLA,  sit 
Each  by  its  own  pale  carcase,  watching  it. 

But  morn  is  up,  and  a  fresh  warfare  stirs 
Throughout  the  camp  of  the  beleaguerers. 
Their  globes  of  fire  (the  dread  artillery  lent 
By  GREECE  to  conquering  MAHADI)  are  spent ; 
And  now  the  scorpion's  shaft,  the  quarry  sent 
From  high  ballistas,  and  the  shielded  throng 
Of  soldiers  swinging  the  huge  ram  along, 
All  speak  the  impatient  Islamite's  intent 
To  try,  at  length,  if  tower  and  battlement 
And-bastion'd  wall  be  not  less  hard  to  win, 
Less  tough  to  break  down  than  the  hearts  within. 
First  in  impatience  and  in  toil  is  he, 
The  burning  AZIM  —  oh  !  could  he  but  see 


The  Impostor  once  alive  within  his  grasp, 
Not  the  gaunt  lion's  hug,  nor  boa's  clasp, 
Could  match  that  gripe  of  vengeance,  or  keep  pace 
With  the  fell  heartiness  of  Hate's  embrace ! 

Loud  rings  the  ponderous  rain  against  the  walls ; 
Now  shake  the  ramparts,  now  a  buttress  falls, 
But    still   no   breach  —  "  Once   more,   one   mighty 


Of  all  your  beams,  together  thundering ! " 
There  —  the  wall  shakes  —  the  shouting  troops  exult, 
"Quick,  quick  discharge  your  weightiest  catapult 
Right  on  that  spot,  and  XKKSHKU  is  our  own  !" 
'Tis  done  —  the  battlements  come  crashing  down, 
And  the  huge  wall,  by  that  stroke  riven  in  two, 
Yawning,  like  some  old  crater,  rent  anew, 
Shows  the  dim,  desolate  city  smoking  through. 
But  strange  !  no  signs  of  life  —  nought  living  seen 
Above,  below  —  what  can  this  stillness  mean  ? 
A  minute's  pause  suspends  all  hearts  and  eyes  — 
"  In  through  the  breach  !  "  impetuous  AZIM  cries; 
But  the  cool  CALIPH,  fearful  of  some  wile 
In  tins  blank  stillness,  checks  the  troops  awhile. — 
Just  then,  a  figure,  with  slow  step,  advanc'd 
Forth  from  the  ruin'd  walls,  and,  as  there  glanc'd 
A  sunbeam  over  it,  all  eyes  could  see 
The  well-known  Silver  Veil !  —  "Tis  He,  'tis  He, 
MOKAXXA,  and  alone!  "  they  shout  around; 
Young  AZIM  from  his  steed  springs  to  the  ground  — 
'•Mine,  Holy  CALIPH!  mine,"  he  cries,  "the  task 
To  crush  yon  daring  wretch  —  'tis  all  I  ask." 
Eager  he  darts  to  meet  the  demon  foe, 
Who  still  across  wide  heaps  of  ruin  slow 
And  falteringly  comes,  till  they  are  near ; 
Then,  with  ;i  Ixjund,  rushes  on  A/.IM'S  spear, 


And,  casting  off  the  Veil  in  falling,  shows  — 
Oh !  —  'tis  his  ZELICA'S  life-blood  that  flows  ! 

"  I  meant  not,  AZIM,"  soothingly  she  said, 
As  on  his  trembling  arm  she  lean'd  her  head, 
And,  looking  in  his  face,  saw  anguish  there 
Beyond  all  wounds  the  quivering  flesh  can  bear  — 
"  I  meant  not  thou  shouldst  have  the  pain  of  this  :  • 
Though  death,  with  thee  thus  tasted,  is  a  bliss 
Thou  wouldst  not  rob  me  of,  didst  thou  but  know 
How  oft  I've  pray'd  to  God  I  might  die  so  ! 
But  the  Fiend's  venom  was  too  scant  and  slow ;  — 
To  linger  on  were  maddening  —  and  I  thought 
If  once  that  Veil  —  nay,  look  not  on  it  —  caught 
The  eyes  of  your  fierce  soldiery,  I  should  be 
Struck  by  a  thousand  death-darts  instantly. 
But  this  is  sweeter  —  oh  !  believe  me,  yes  — 
I  would  not  change  this  sad,  but  dear  caress, 
This  death  within  thy  arms  I  would  not  give 
For  the  most  smiling  life  the  happiest  live ! 
All,  that  stood  dark  and  drear  before  the  eye 
Of  my  stray'd  soul,  is  passing  swiftly  by  ; 
A  light  comes  o'er  me  from  those  looks  of  love, 
Like  the  first  dawn  of  mercy  from  above  ; 
And  if  thy  lips  but  tell  me  I'm  forgiven, 
Angels  will  echo  the  blest  words  in  Heaven  ! 
But  live,  my  AZIM  ;  —  oh  !  to  call  thee  mine 
Thus  once  again  !  my  AZIM  —  dream  divine  ! 
Live,  if  thou  ever  lov'dst  me,  if  to  meet 
Thy  ZELICA  hereafter  would  be  sweet, 
Oh,  live  to  pray  for  her  —  to  bend  the  knee 
Morning  and  night  before  that  Deity, 
To  whom  pure  lips  and  hearts  without  a  stain, 
As  thine  are,  AZIM,  never  breath'd  in  vain,  — 
And  pray  that  He  may  pardon  her,  —  may  take 


Compassion  on  her  soul  for  thy  dear  sake, 

And,  nought  remembering  but  her  love  to  thee, 

Make  her  all  thine,  all  His,  eternally ! 

Go  to  those  happy  fields  where  first  we  twin'd 

Our  youthful  hearts  together  —  every  wind 

That  meets  thee   there,  fresh  from  the  well-known 


Will  bring  the  sweetness  of  those  innocent  hours 
Back  to  thy  soul,  and  mayst  thou  feel  again 
For  thy  poor  ZELICA  as  thou  didst  then. 
So  shall  thy  orisons,  like  dew  that  flies 
To  Heaven  upon  the  morning's  sunshine,  rise 
With  all  love's  earliest  ardor  to  the  skies  ! 
And  should  they  —  but,  alas,  my  senses  fail  — 
Oh  for  one  minute!  —  should  thy  prayers  prevail  — 
If  pardon'd  souls  may,  from  that  World  of  Bliss, 
Reveal  their  joy  to  those  they  love  in  this  — 
I'll  come  to  thee  — in  some  sweet  dream  — and  tell  — . 
Oh  Heaven  —  I  die  —  dear  love  !  farewell,  farewell ! " 

Time  fleeted  —  years  on  years  had  pass'd  away, 
And  few  of  those  who,  on  that  mournful  day, 
Had  stood,  with  pity  in  their  eyes,  to  see 
Tho  maiden's  death  and  the  youth's  agony, 
Were  living  still  —  when,  by  a  rustic  grave, 
Beside  the  swift  AMOO'S  transparent  wave, 
An  aged  man,  who  had  grown  aged  there 
By  that  lone  grave,  morning  and  night  in  prayer, 
For  the  last  time  knelt  down  —  and,  though  the  shade 
Of  death  hung  darkening  over  him,  there  play'd 
A  gleam  of  rapture  on  his  eye  and  check, 
That  brighten'd  even  Death  —  like  the  last  streak 
Of  intense  glory  on  the  horizon's  brim, 
When  night  o'er  all  the  rest  hangs  chill  and  dim. 
His  soul  had  seen  a  Vision,  while  he  slept ; 


She,  for  whose  spirit  he  had  pray'd  and  wept 

So  many  years,  had  come  to  him,  all  drest 

In  angel  smiles,  and  told  him  she  was  blest ! 

For  this  the  old  man  breath'd  his  thanks,  and  died.  — 

And  there,  upon  the  banks  of  that  lov'd  tide, 

[Ie  and  his  ZELICA  sleep  side  by  side. 


THE  story  of  the  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan  being 
ended,  they  were  now  doomed  to  hear  FADLADEEN'S  criti- 
cisms upon  it.  A  series  of  disappointments  and  accidents 
had  occurred  to  this  learned  Chamberlain  during  the 
journey.  In  the  first  place,  those  couriers  stationed,  as 
in  the  reign  of  Shah  Jehan,  between  Delhi  and  the 
Western  coast  of  India,  to  secure  a  constant  supply  of 
mangoes  for  the  Koyal  Table,  had,  by  some  cruel  irregu- 
larity, failed  in  their  duty ;  and  to  eat  any  mangoes  but 
those  of  Mazagong  was,  of  course,  impossible.149  In  the 
next  place,  the  elephant,  laden  with  his  fine  antique  por- 
celain,160 had,  in  an  unusual  fit  of  liveliness,  shattered 
the  whole  set  to  pieces :  —  an  irreparable  loss,  as  many 
of  the  vessels  were  so  exquisitely  old,  as  to  have  been 
used  under  the  Emperors  Van  and  Chun,  who  reigned 
many  ages  before  the  dynasty  of  Tang.  His  Koran,  too, 
supposed  to  be  the  identical  copy  between  the  leaves  of 
which  Mahomet's  favorite  pigeon  used  to  nestle,  had 
been  mislaid  by  his  Koran-bearer  three  whole  days ;  not 
without  much  spiritual  alarm  to  FADLADEE.V,  who, 
though  professing  to  hold  with  other  loyal  and  orthodox 
Mussulmans,  that  salvation  could  only  be  found  in  the 
Koran,  was  strongly  suspected  of  believing  in  his  heart, 
that  it  could  only  be  found  in  his  own  particular  copy  of 
it.  When  to  all  these  grievances  is  added  the  obstinacy 
of  the  cooks,  in  putting  tho,  pepper  of  Canara  into  his 
dishes  instead  of  tho  cinnamon  of  Serendib,  we  may 
easily  suppose  that  he  came  to  tho  task  of  criticism 
with,  at  least,  a  suftieient  degree  of  irritability  for  the 


•'In  order,"  said  he,  importantly  swinging  about  his 
chaplet  of  pearls,  "  to  convey  with  clearness  my  opinion 
of  the  story  this  young  man  has  related,  it  is  necessary 
to  take  a  review  of  all  the  stories  that  have  ever  — 
—  "My  good  FADLADEEN!"  exclaimed  the  Princess,  in- 
terrupting him,  "  we  really  do  not  deserve  that  you  should 
give  yourself  so  much  trouble.  Your  opinion  of  the  poem 
we  have  just  heard  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  be  abundantly 
edifying,  without  any  further  waste  of  your  valuable 
erudition."  —  "If  that  be  all,"  replied  the  critic, — evi- 
dently mortified  at  not  being  allowed  to  show  how  much 
he  knew  about  everything  but  the  subject  immediately 
before  him,  —  "if  that  be  all  that  is  required  the  matter 
is  easily  despatched."  He  then  proceeded  to  analyze  the 
poem,  in  that  strain  (so  well  known  to  the  unfortunate 
bards  of  Delhi)  whose  censures  were  an  infliction  from 
which  few  recovered,  and  whose  very  praises  were  like 
the  honey  extracted  from  the  bitter  flowers  of  the  aloe. 
The  chief  personages  of  the  story  were,  if  he  rightly 
understood  them,  an  ill-favored  gentleman,  with  a  veil 
over  his  face;  —  a  young  lady,  whose  reason  went  and 
came,  according  as  it  suited  the  poet's  convenience  to  be 
sensible  or  otherwise ;  —  and  a  youth  in  one  of  those 
hideous  Bucharian  bonnets,  who  took  the  aforesaid  gen- 
tleman in  a  veil  for  a  Divinity.  "  From  such  materials," 
said  he,  "  what  can  be  expected  ?  —  after  rivalling  each 
other  in  long  speeches  and  absurdities,  through  some 
thousands  of  lines  as  indigestible  as  the  filberts  of  Ber- 
daa,  our  friend  in  the  veil  jumps  into  a  tub  of  aquafortis ; 
the  young  lady  dies  in  a  set  speech,  whose  only  recom- 
mendation is  that  it  is  her  last ;  and  the  lover  lives  on 
to  a  good  old  age  for  the  laudable  purpose  of  seeing  her 
ghost,  which  he  at  last  happily  accomplishes,  and  expires. 
This,  you  will  allow,  is  a  fair  summary  of  the  story  j 
and  if  Nasser,  the  Arabian  merchant,  told  no  better,151 

LALLA    ROOKH.  99 

our  Holy  Prophet  (to  whom  be  all  honor  and  glory  !) 
had  no  need  to  be  jealous  of  his  abilities  for  story- 

With  respect  to  the  style,  it  was  worthy  of  the  matter ; 
—  it  had  not  even  those  politic  contrivances  of  structure, 
which  make  up  for  the  commonness  of  the  thoughts  by 
the  peculiarity  of  the  manner,  iior  that  stately  poetical 
phraseology  by  which  sentiments  mean  in  themselves, 
like  the  blacksmith's  15a  apron  converted  into  a  banner, 
are  so  easily  gilt  and  embroidered  into  consequence. 
Then,  as  to  the  versification,  it  was,  to  say  no  worse  of 
it,  execrable  :  it  had  neither  the  copious  flow  of  Ferdosi, 
the  sweetness  of  Hafez,  nor  the  sententious  march  of 
Sadi ;  but  appeared  to  him,  in  the  uneasy  heaviness  of 
its  movements,  to  have  been  modelled  upon  the  gait  of  a 
very  tired  dromedary.  The  licenses,  too,  in  which 
it  indulged,  were  unpardonable;  —  for  instance,  this 
line,  and  the  poem  abounded  with  such  :  — 

Like  the  faint,  exquisite  music  of  a  dream. 

"  What  critic  that  can  count,"  said  FADLADEEX,  "and  ha.' 
his  full  complement  of  fingers  to  count  withal,  would  tol- 
erate for  an  instant  sucli  syllabic  superfluities  ?  "  He 
here  looked  round,  and  discovered  that  most  of  his  audi- 
ence were  asleep  ;  while  the  glimmering  lamps  seemed 
inclined  to  follow  their  example.  It  became  necessary, 
therefore,  however  painful  to  himself,  to  put  an  end  to 
his  valuable  animadversions  for  the  present,  and  he 
accordingly  concluded,  with  an  air  of  dignified  candor, 
thus  :  "  Notwithstanding  the  observations  which  I  have 
thought  it  my  duty  to  make,  it  is  by  no  means  my  wish 
to  discourage  the  young  man  :  —  HO  far  from  it,  indeed, 
that  if  he  will  but  totally  alter  his  style  of  writing  and 


thinking,  I  have  very  little  doubt  that  I  shall  be  vastly 
pleased  with  him." 

Some  days  elapsed,  after  this  harangue  of  the  Great 
Chamberlain,  before  LALLA  ROOKH  could  venture  to  ask 
for  another  story.  The  youth  was  still  a  welcome  guest 
in  the  pavilion — to  one  heart,  perhaps,  too  dangerously 
welcome  :  —  but  all  mention  of  poetry  was,  as  if  by  com- 
mon consent,  avoided.  Though  none  of  the  party  had 
much  respect  for  FADLADEEX,  yet  his  censures,  thus 
magisterially  delivered,  evidently  made  an  impression  on 
them  all.  The  Poet  himself,  to  whom  criticism  was  quite 
a  new  operation  (being  wholly  unknown  in  that  Paradise 
of  the  Indies,  Cashmere),  felt  the  shock  as  it  is  generally 
felt  at  first,  till  use  has  made  it  more  tolerable  to  the 
patient ;  —  the  Ladies  began  to  suspect  that  they  ought 
not  to  be  pleased,  and  seemed  to  conclude  that  there 
must  have  been  much  good  sense  in  what  FADLADEEX 
said,  from  its  having  sent  them  all  so  soundly  to  sleep ; 
—  while  the  self-complacent  Chamberlain  was  left  to 
triumph  in  the  idea  of  having,  for  the  hundred  and 
fiftieth  time  in  his  life,  extinguished  a  Poet.  LALLA 
EOOKH  alone — and  Love  knew  why  —  persisted  in  being 
delighted  with  all  she  had  heard,  and  in  resolving  to  hear 
more  as  speedily  as  possible.  Her  manner,  however,  of 
first  returning  to  the  subject  was  unlucky.  It  was  while 
they  rested  during  the  heat  of  noon  near  a  fountain,  on 
which  some  hand  had  rudely  traced  those  well-known 
words  from  the  Garden  of  Sadi,  —  "  Many,  like  me,  have 
viewed  this  fountain,  but  they  are  gone,  and  their  eyes 
are  closed  forever  ! "  —  that  she  took  occasion,  from  the 
melancholy  beauty  of  this  passage,  to  dwell  upon  the 
charms  of  poetry  in  general.  "It  is  true,"  she  said,  "few 
poets  can  imitate  that  sublime  bird,  which  flies  always  in 
the  air,  and  never  touches  the  earth : 188  —  it  is  only  once 


in  many  ages  a  Genius  appears,  whose  words,  like  those 
on  the  Written  Mountain,  last  forever : 1M  but  still  there 
are  some,  as  delightful,  perhaps,  though  not  so  wonder- 
ful, who,  if  not  stars  over  our  head,  are  at  least  flowers 
along  our  path,  and  whose  sweetness  of  the  moment  we 
ought  gratefully  to  inhale,  without  calling  upon  them  for 
a  brightness  and  a  durability  beyond  their  nature.  In 
short,"  continued  she,  blushing,  as  if  conscious  of  being 
caught  in  an  oration,  "  it  is  quite  cruel  that  a  poet  can- 
not wander  through  his  regions  of  enchantment,  without 
having  a  critic  forever,  like  the  old  Man  of  the  Sea, 
upon  his  back !  "  15S  —  FADLADEEN,  it  was  plain,  took 
this  last  luckless  allusion  to  himself,  and  would  treasure 
it  up  in  his  mind  as  a  whetstone  for  his  next  criticism. 
A  sudden  silence  ensued;  and  the  Princess,  glancing  a 
look  at  FERAMOKZ,  saw  plainly  she  must  wait  for  a  more 
courageous  moment. 

But  the  glories  of  Nature,  and  her  wild  fragrant  airs, 
playing  freshly  over  the  current  of  youthful  spirits,  will 
soon  heal  even  deeper  wounds  than  the  dull  Fadladeens 
of  this  world  can  inflict.  In  an  evening  or  two  after, 
they  came  to  the  small  Valley  of  Gardens,  which  had 
been  planted  by  order  of  the  Emperor,  for  his  favorite 
sister  Rochinara,  during  their  progress  to  Cashmere, 
some  years  before ;  aud  never  was  there  a  more  spark- 
ling assemblage  of  sweets,  since  the  Gulzar-e-Irem,  or 
Kose-bower  of  Irem.  Every  precious  flower  was  there 
to  be  found  that  poetry,  or  love,  or  religion  has  ever 
consecrated;  from  the  dark  hyacinth,  to  which  Hafez 
compares  his  mistress's  hair,156  to  the  Cuimiltttri,  by 
whose,  rosy  blossoms  the  heaven  of  Indra  is  scented.157 
As  they  sat  in  the  cool  fragrance  of  this  delicious  spot, 
and  LALLA  KOOKII  remarked  that  she  could  fancy  it  the 
abode  of  that  Flower-loving  Nymph  whom  they  worship 


in  the  temples  of  Kathay,158  or  of  one  of  those  Peris, 
those  beautiful  creatures  of  the  air,  who  live  upon  per- 
fumes,  and  to  whom  a  place  like  this  might  make  some 
amends  for  the  Paradise  they  have  lost,  —  the  young 
Poet,  in  whose  eyes  she  appeared,  while  she  spoke,  to  be 
one  of  the  bright  spiritual  creatures  she  was  describing, 
said  hesitatingly  that  he  remembered  a  Story  of  a  Peri, 
which,  if  the  Princess  had  no  objection,  he  would  ven- 
ture to  relate.  "  It  is,"  said  he,  with  an  appealing  look 
to  FADLADEEN,  "  in  a  lighter  and  humbler  strain  than 
the  other ; "  then,  striking  a  few  careless  but  melancholy 
chords  on  his  kitar,  he  thus  began :  — 


OXK  morn  a  PERI  at  the  gate 
Of  Eden  stood,  disconsolate ; 
And  as  she  listen'd  to  the  Springs 

Of  Life  within,  like  music  flowing, 
And  caught  the  light  upon  her  wings 

Through  the  half-open  portal  glowing, 
She  wept  to  think  her  recreant  race 
Should  e'er  have  lost  that  glorious  place  I 

"How  happy,"  exclaim'd  this  child  of  air, 
"Are  the  holy  Spirits  who  wander  there, 

'Mid  flowers  that  never  shall  fade  or  fall ; 
Though  mine  are  the  gardens  of  earth  and  sea 
And  the  stars  themselves  have  flowers  for  me. 

One  blossom  of  Heaven  outblooms  them  all 

"Though  sunny  the  Lake  of  cool  OASHMKHK, 
With  its  plane-tree  Isle  reflected  clear,159 

And  sweetly  the  founts  of  that  Valley  fall; 
Though  bright  are  the  waters  of  SIXC-SU-IIA  v, 
And  the  golden  floods  that  thitherward  stray,18* 
Yet  — oh,  'tis  only  the  Blest  can  say 

How  the  waters  of  Heaven  outshine  them  all 

"f}o,  wing  thy  Might  from  star  to  star, 
From  world  to  luminous  world,  as  far 

104  LALLA    EOOKH. 

As  the  universe  spreads  its  flaming  wall : 
Take  all  the  pleasures  of  all  the  spheres, 
And  multiply  each  through  endless  years, 

One  minute  of  Heaven  is  worth  them  all ! " 

The  glorious  Angel,  who  was  keeping 
The  gates  of  Light,  beheld  her  weeping ; 
And,  as  he  nearer  drew  and  listen'd 
To  her  sad  song,  a  tear-drop  glisten'd 
Within  his  eyelids,  like  the  spray 

From  Eden's  fountain,  when  it  lies 
On  the  blue  flower,  which  —  Bramins  say  — 

Blooms  nowhere  but  in  Paradise.161 

"Nymph  of  a  fair  but  erring  line ! " 
Gently  he  said  —  "  One  hope  is  thine. 
'Tis  written  in  the  Book  of  Fate, 

The  Peri  yet  may  be  forgiven 
Who  brings  to  this  Eternal  gate 

The  Gift  that  is  most  dear  to  Heaven! 
Go,  seek  it,  and  redeem  thy  sin  — 
'Tis  sweet  to  let  the  Pardon'd  in." 

Rapidly  as  comets  run 

To  the  embraces  of  the  Sun ;  — 

Fleeter  than  the  starry  brands 

Flung  at  night  from  angel  hands,168 

At  those  dark  and  daring  sprites 

Who  would  climb  the  empyreal  heights, 

Down  the  blue  vault  the  PERI  flies, 

And,  lighted  earthward  by  a  glance 
That  just  then  broke  from  morning's  eyes, 

Hung  hovering  o'er  our  world's  expanse. 

But  whither  shall  the  Spirit  go 

To  find  this  gift  for  Heaven  ?  —  "I  knovr 


The  wealth,"  she  cries,  "  of  every  urn, 

In  which  unnumber'd  rubies  burn, 

Beneath  the  pillars  of  CHILMIXAR  ; m 

I  know  where  the  Isles  of  Perfume  are, 

Many  a  fathom  clown  in  the  sea, 

To  the  south  of  sun-bright  ARABY  ;  m 

I  know,  too,  where  the  Genii  hid 

The  jewelFd  cup  of  their  King  JAMSHID,  m 

"With  Life's  elixir  sparkling  high  — 

But  gifts  like  these  are  not  for  the  sky. 

Where  was  there  ever  a  gem  that  shone 

Like  the  steps  of  ALLA'S  wonderful  Throne  ? 

And  the  Drops  of  Life  —  oh  !  what  would  they  be 

In  the  boundless  Deep  of  Eternity  ?  " 

While  thus  she  mus'd,  her  pinions  fann'd 
The  air  of  that  sweet  Indian  land, 
Whose  air  is  balm ;  whose  ocean  spreads 
O'er  coral  rocks,  and  amber  beds  : 1M 
Whose  mountains,  pregnant  by  the  beam 
Of  the  warm  sun,  with  diamonds  teem ; 
Whose  rivulets  are  like  rich  brides, 
Lovely,  with  gold  beneath  their  tides ; 
Whose  sandal  groves  and  bowers  of  spice 
Might  be  a  Peri's  Paradise  ! 
But  crimson  now  her  rivers  ran 

With  human  blood  — the  smell  of  death 
Came  reeking  from  those  spicy  bowers, 
And  man,  the  sacrifice  of  man, 

Mingled  his  taint  with  every  breath 
Upwafted  from  the  innocent  flowers. 
Land  of  the  Sun,  what  foot  invades 
Thy  Pagods  and  thy  pillar' d  shades  ""  — 
Thy  cavern  shrines,  and  Idol  stones, 
Thy  Monarchs  and  their  thousand  Thrones  ?  1M 

106  LALLA    ROOKH. 

"Tis  he  of  GAZNA  169  —  fierce  in  wrath 

He  comes,  and -INDIA'S  diadems 
Lie  scatter'd  in  his  ruinous  path.  — 

His  bloodhounds  he  adorns  with  gems, 
Torn  from  the  violated  necks 

Of  many  a  young  and  lov'd  Sultana ;  17° 
Maidens,  within  their  pure  Zenana, 
Priests  in  the  very  fane  he  slaughters. 
And  chokes  up  with  the  glittering  wrecks 

Of  golden  shrines  the  sacred  waters ! 
Downward  the  PERI  turns  her  gaze, 
And,  through  the  war-field's  bloody  haze, 
Beholds  a  youthful  warrior  stand, 

Alone,  beside  his  native  river,  — 
The  red  blade  broken  in  his  hand, 
And  the  last  arrow  in  his  quiver. 
"  Live,"  said  the  Conqueror,  "  live  to  share 
The  trophies  and  the  crowns  I  bear  ! " 
Silent  that  youthful  warrior  stood  — 
Silent  he  pointed  to  the  flood 
All  crimson  with  his  country's  blood, 
Then  sent  his  last  remaining  dart, 
For  answer,  to  the  Invader's  heart. 

False  flew  the  shaft,  though  pointed  well ; 
The  Tyrant  liv'd,  the  Hero  fell !  - 
Yet  mark'd  the  PERI  where  he  lay, 

And,  when  the  rush  of  war  was  past, 
Swiftly  descending  on  a  ray 

Of  morning  light,  she  caught  the  last  — 
Last  glorious  drop  his  heart  had  shed, 
Before  its  free-born  spirit  fled ! 

"Be  this,"  she  cried,  as  she  wing'd  her  flight, 
"  My  welcome  gift  at  the  Gates  of  Light. 


Though  foul  are  the  drops  that  oft  distil 
On  the  field  of  warfare,  blood  like  this, 
For  Liberty  shed,  so  holy  is,171 

It  would  not  stain  the  purest  rill, 

That  sparkles  among  the  Bowers  of  Bliss ! 

Oh,  if  there  be,  on  this  earthly  sphere, 

A  boon,  an  offering  Heaven  holds  dear, 

'Tis  the  last  libation  Liberty  draAvs 

From  the  heart  that  bleeds  and  breaks  in  her 
cause ! " 

"  Sweet,"  said  the  Angel,  as  she  gave 

The  gift  into  his  radiant  hand, 
"  Sweet  is  our  welcome  of  the  Brave 

Who  die  thus  for  their  native  Land  — 
But  see  —  alas  !  —  the  crystal  bar 
Of  Eden  moves  not  —  holier  far 
Than  even  this  drop  the  boon  must  be, 
That  opes  the  Gates  of  Heaven  for  thee ! " 

Her  first  fond  hope  of  Eden  blighted, 
Now  among  AFRIT'S  lunar  Mountains,179 

Far  to  the  South  the  PKKI  lighted ; 
And  sleek'd  her  plumage  at  the  fountains 

Of  that  Egyptian  tide — whose  birth 

Is  hidden  from  the  sons  of  earth 

Deep  in  those  solitary  woods, 

Win-re  oft  the  Genii  of  the  Floods 

Dance  round  the  cradle  of  their  Nile, 

Anil  hail  the  new-born  Giant's  smile.178 

Thewe  over  EGYPT'S  palmy  groves, 
Her  grots,  and  sepulchres  of  Kings,174 

The  exil'd  Spirit  sighing  roves; 

And  now  hangs  listening  to  the  doves 

In  warm  KOSKTTA'S  vale175  —  now  loves 

108  LALLA  ROOKfl. 

To  watch  the  moonlight  on  the  wings 
Of  the  white  pelicans  that  break 
The  azure  calm  of  MCERIS'  Lake.176 
'Twas  a  fair  scene  —  a  Land  more  bright 

Never  did  mortal  eye  behold ! 
Who  could  have  thought,  that  saw  this  night, 

Those  valleys  and  their  fruits  of  gold, 
Basking  in  Heaven's  serenest  light ;  — 
Those  groups  of  lovely  date-trees  bending 

Languidly  their  leaf-crown'd  heads, 
Like  youthful  maids,  when  sleep  descending 

Warns  them  to  their  silken  beds ;  m  — 
Those  virgin  lilies,  all  the  night 

Bathing  their  beauties  in  the  lake, 
That  they  may  rise  more  fresh  and  bright, 

When  their  beloved  Sun's  awake ;  — 
Those  ruin'd  shrines  and  towers  that  seem 
The  relics  of  a  splendid  dream ; 

Amid  whose  fairy  loneliness 
Nought  but  the  lapwing's  cry  is  heard, 
Nought  seen  but  (when  the  shadows,  flitting 
Fast  from  the  moon,  unsheath  its  gleam) 
Some  purple-Aving'd  Sultana178  sitting 

Upon  a  column,  motionless 
And  glittering  like  an  Idol  bird !  — 
Who  could  have  thought,  that  there,  even  there, 
Amid  those  scenes  so  still  and  fair, 
The  Demon  of  the  Plague  hath  cast 
From  his  hot  wing  a  deadlier  blast, 
More  mortal  far  than  ever  came 
From  the  red  Desert's  sands  of  flame ! 
So  quick,  that  every  living  thing 
Of  human  shape,  touch'd  by  his  wing, 
Like  plants  where  the  Simoom  hath  past, 
At  once  falls  black  and  withering ! 


The  sun  went  down  on  many  a  brow, 

Which,  full  of  bloom  and  freshness  then, 
Is  rankling  in  the  pest-house  now, 

And  ne'er  will  feel  that  sun  again. 
And,  oh  !  to  see  the  unburied  heaps 
On  which  the  lonely  moonlight  sleeps  — 
The  very  vultures  turn  away, 
And  sicken  at  so  foul  a  prey  ! 
Only  the  fierce  hyaena  stalks  m 
Throughout  the  city's  desolate  walks  18° 
At  midnight,  and  his  carnage  plies  :  — 

Woe  to  the  half-dead  wretch,  who  meets 
The  glaring  of  those  large  blue  eyes  m 

Amid  the  darkness  of  the  streets  ! 

"  Poor  race  of  men  ! "  said  the  pitying  Spirit, 

"Dearly  ye  pay  for  your  primal  Fall  — 
Some  flow'rets  of  Eden  ye  still  inherit, 

But  the  trail  of  the  Serpent  is  over  them  all ! n 
She  wept  —  the  air  grew  pure  and  clear 

Around  her,  as  the  bright  drops  ran ; 
For  there's  a  magic  in  each  tear 

Such  kindly  Spirits  weep  for  man  ! 
Just  then  beneatli  some  orange  trees, 
Whose  fruit  and  blossoms  in  the  breeze 
Were  wantoning  together,  free, 
Like  age  at  play  with  infancy  — 
Beneath  that  fresh  and  springing  bower, 

Close  by  the  Lake,  she  heard  the  moan 
Of  one  who,  at  this  silent  hour, 

Had  thither  stolen  to  die  alone. 
One  who  in  life,  where'er  he  mov'd, 

Drew  after  him  the  hearts  of  many; 
Yet  now,  as  though  he  ne'er  were  lov'd, 

Dies  here  unseen,  unwept  by  any  1 


None  to  watch  near  him  —  none  to  slake 

The  fire  that  in  his  bosom  lies, 
With  even  a  sprinkle  from  that  lake, 

Which  shines  so  cool  before  his  eyes. 
No  voice,  well  known  through  many  a  day, 

To  speak  the  last,  the  parting  word, 
Which,  when  all  other  sounds  decay, 

Is  still  like  distant  music  heard  ;  — 
That  tender  farewell  on  the  shore 
Of  this  rude  world,  when  all  is  o'er, 
Which  cheers  the  spirit,  ere  its  bark 
Puts  off  into  the  unknown  Dark. 

Deserted  youth !  one  thought  alone 

Shed  joy  around  his  soul  in  death  — 
That  she,  whom  he  for  years  had  known, 
And  lov'd,  and  might  have  call'd  his  own, 

Was  safe  from  this  foul  midnight's  breath, 
Safe  in  her  father's  princely  halls, 
Where  the  cool  airs  from  fountain  falls, 
Freshly  perfum'd  by  many  a  brand 
Of  the  sweet  wood  from  INDIA'S  land, 
Were  pure  as  she  whose  brow  they  fann'd. 

But  see  —  who  yonder  comes  by  stealth,182 

This  melancholy  bower  to  seek, 
Like  a  young  envoy,  sent  by  Health, 

With  rosy  gifts  upon  her  cheek  ? 
'Tis  she  —  far  off,  through  moonlight  dim, 

He  knew  his  own  betrothed  bride, 
She,  who  would  rather  die  with  him, 

Than  live  to  gain  the  world  beside  !  — 
Her  arms  are  round  her  lover  now, 

His  livid  cheek  to  hers  she  presses, 
And  dips,  to  bind  his  burning  brow, 

In  the  cool  lake  her  loosen'd  tresses. 


Ah !  once,  how  little  did  he  think 

An  hour  would  come,  when  he  should  shrink 

With  horror  from  that  dear  embrace, 

Those  gentle  arms,  that  were  to  him 
Holy  as  is  the  cradling  place 

Of  Eden's  infant  cherubim  ! 
And  now  he  yields  —  now  turns  away, 
Shuddering  as  if  the  venom  lay 
All  in  those  proffer'd  lips  alone  - 
Those  lips  that,  then  so  fearless  grown, 
Xever  until  that  instant  came 
Near  his  unask'd  or  without  shame. 
"  Oh !  let  me  only  breathe  the  air, 

That  blessed  air,  that's  breath'd  by  thee, 
And,  whether  on  its  wings  it  bear 

Healing  or  death,  'tis  sweet  to  me  ! 
There  —  drink  my  tears,  while  yet  they  fall  — • 

Would  that  my  bosom's  blood  were  balm, 
And,  well  thou  know'st,  I'd  shed  it  all, 

To  give  thy  brow  one  minute's  calm. 
Kay,  turn  not  from  me  that  dear  face  — 

Am  I  not  thine  —  thy  own  lov'd  bride  — 
The  one,  the  chosen  one,  whose  place 

In  life  or  death  is  by  thy  side  ? 
Think'st  thou  that  she,  whose  only  light, 

In  this  dim  world,  from  thee  hath  shone, 
Could  bear  the  long,  the  cheerless  night, 

That  must  be  hers  when  thoxi  art  gone  ? 
That  I  can  live,  and  let  thee  go, 
Who  art  my  life  itself  ?  — No.  no  — 
When  th<>  stem  dies,  the  leaf  that  grew 
Out  of  its  heart  must  perish  too  ! 
Then  turn  to  me.  my  own  love,  turn, 
Before,  like  thee,  I  fade  ;md  burn  ; 
Cling  to  these  yet  cool  lips,  and  share 


The  last  pure  life  that  lingers  there  ! " 
She  fails —  she  sinks  —  as  dies  the  lamp 
In  charnel  airs,  or  cavern-damp, 
So  quickly  do  his  baleful  sighs 
Quench  all  the  sweet  light  of  her  eyes. 
One  struggle  —  and  his  pain  is  past  — 

Her  lover  is  no  longer  living ! 
One  kiss  the  maiden  gives,  one  last, 

Long  kiss,  which  she  expires  in  giving ! 

"  Sleep,"  said  the  PERI,  as  softly  she  stole 
The  farewell  sigh  of  that  vanishing  soul, 
As  true  as  e'er  warm'd  a  woman's  breast  — 
"  Sleep  on,  in  visions  of  odor  rest, 
In  balmier  airs  than  ever  yet  stirr'd 
The  enchanted  pile  of  that  lonely  bird, 
Who  sings  at  the  last  his  own  death-lay,188 
And  in  music  and  perfume  dies  away  /  * 

Thus  saying,  from  her  lips  she  spread 

Unearthly  breathings  through  the  place, 
And  shook  her  sparkling  wreath,  and  shed 

Such  lustre  o'er  each  paly  face, 
That  like  two  lovely  saints  they  seem'd, 

Upon  the  eve  of  doomsday  taken 
From  their  dim  graves,  in  odor  sleeping; 
While  that  benevolent  PEEI  beam'd 
Like  their  good  angel,  calmly  keeping 

Watch  o'er  them  till  their  souls  would  waken. 

But  morn  is  blushing  in  the  sky ; 

Again  the  PERI  soars  above, 
Bearing  to  Heaven  that  precious  sigh 

Of  pure  self-sacrificing  love. 
High  throbb'd  her  heart,  .with  hope  elate, 

The  Elysian  palm  she  soon  shall  win, 


For  the  bright  Spirit  at  the  gate 

Smil'd  as  she  gave  that  offering  in ; 
And  she  already  hears  the  trees 

Of  Eden,  with  their  crystal  bells 
Ringing  in  that  ambrosial  breeze 

That  from  the  throne  of  ALLA  swells ; 
And  she  can  see  the  starry  bowls 

That  lie  around  that  lucid  lake, 
Upon  whose  banks  admitted  Souls 

Their  first  sweet  draught  of  glory  take ! 1M 

But,  ah  !  even  PERIS'  hopes  are  vain  — 

Again  the  Fates  forbade,  again 

The  immortal  barrier  clos'd  —  "  Not  yet," 

The  Angel  said  as,  with  regret, 

He  shut  from  her  that  glimpse  of  glory  — 

"True  was  the  maiden,  and  her  story, 

Written  in  light  o'er  ALLA'S  head, 

By  seraph  eyes  shall  long  be  read. 

But,  PEKI,  see — the  crystal  bar 

Of  Eden  moves  not  —  holier  far 

Than  even  this  sigh  the  boon  must  be 

That  opes  the  Gates  of  Heaven  for  thee." 

Now,  upon  SYRIA'S  land  of  roses186 
Softly  the  light  of  Eve  reposes, 
And,  like  ft  glory,  the  broad  sun 
Hangs  over  sainted  LKHANOX  ; 
Whose  hc;id  in  wintry  grandeur  towers, 

And  whitens  with  eternal  sleet, 
While  summer,  in  a  vale  of  flowers, 

Is  sleeping  rosy  at  his  feet. 

To  one,  who  look'd  from  upper  air 
O'er  all  the  enchanted  regions  there. 


How  beauteous  must  have  been  the  glow, 
The  life,  the  sparkling  from  below ! 
Fair  gardens,  shining  streams,  with  ranks 
Of  golden  melons  on  their  banks, 
More  golden  where  the  sunlight  falls ; 
Gay  lizards,  glittering  on  the  walls 186 
Of  ruin'd  shrines,  busy  and  bright 
As  they  were  all  alive  with  light ; 
And,  yet  more  splendid,  numerous  flocks 
Of  pigeons,  settling  on  the  rocks, 
With  their  rich  restless  wings,  that  gleam 
Variously  in  the  crimson  beam 
Of  the  warm  West,  —  as  if  inlaid 
With  brilliants  from  the  mine,  or  made 
Of  tearless  rainbows,  such  as  span 
The  unclouded  skies  of  PERISTAN. 
And  then  the  mingling  sounds  that  come 
Of  shepherd's  ancient  reed,187  with  hum 
Of  the  wild  bees  of  PALESTINE,188 

Banqueting  through  the  flow'ry  vales  ; 
And,  JORDAN,  those  sweet  banks  of  thine, 

And  woods,  so  full  of  nightingales.189 

But  nought  can  charm  the  luckless  PERI  ; 
Her  soul  is  sad  —  her  wings  are  weary  — 
Joyless  she  sees  the  Sun  look  down 
On  that  great  Temple,  once  his  own,190 
Whose  lonely  columns  stand  sublime, 

Flinging  their  shadows  from  on  high, 
Like  dials,  which  the  wizard,  Time, 

Had  rais'd  to  count  his  ages  by  ! 

Yet  haply  there  may  lie  conceal'd 

Beneath  those  Chambers  of  the  Suii, 
Some  amulet  of  gems  anneal'd 


In  upper  fires,  some  tablet  seal'd 
With  the  great  name  of  SOLOMON-, 
Which,  spell'd  by  her  illumin'd  eyes, 

May  teach  her  where,  beneath  the  moon, 

In  earth  or  ocean,  lies  the  boon, 

The  charm,  that  can  restore  so  soon 
An  erring  Spirit  to  the  skies. 

Cheer'd  by  this  hope  she  bends  her  thither;  — 

Still  laughs  the  radiant  eye  of  Heaven, 

Nor  have  the  golden  bowers  of  Even 
In  the  rich  West  begun  to  wither ;  — 
When,  o'er  the  vale  of  BALBEC  winging 

Slowly,  she  sees  a  child  at  play, 
Among  the  rosy  wild  flowers  singing, 

As  rosy  and  as  wild  as  they ; 
Chasing,  with  eager  hands  and  eyes, 
The  beautiful  blue  damsel  flies,191 
That  flutter'd  round  the  jasmine  stems, 
Like  winged  flowers  or  flying  gems  :  — 
And,  near  the  boy,  who  tir'd  with  play 
Now  nestling  'mid  the  roses  lay, 
She  saw  a  wearied  man  dismount 

From  his  hot  steed,  and  on  the  brink 
Of  a  small  imaret's  rustic  fount 19a 

Impatient  fling  him  down  to  drink. 
Then  swift  his  haggard  brow  he  tnrn'd 

To  the  fair  child,  who  fearless  sat, 
Though  never  yet  hath  day -beam  burn'd 

Upon  a  brow  more  fierce  than  that,  — 
Sullenly  fieree  —  a  mixture  dire, 
Like  thunder-clouds,  of  gloom  and  fire  ; 
In  which  tin1  PKKI'S  eye  could  read 
Dark  tales  of  many  a  ruthless  deed  ; 
The  ruin'd  maid  — the  shrine  profan'd  — 


Oaths  broken  —  and  the  threshold  stain'd 
With  blood  of  guests !  —  there  written,  all, 
Black  as  the  damning  drops  that  fall 
From  the  denouncing  Angel's  pen, 
Ere  Mercy  weeps  them  out  again. 

Yet  tranquil  now  that  man  of  crime 
(As  if  the  balmy  evening  time 
Soften'd  his  spirit)  look'd  and  lay, 
Watching  the  rosy  infant's  play  :  — 
Though  still,  whene'er  his  eye  by  chance 
Fell  on  the  boy's,  its  lurid  glance 

Met  that  unclouded  joyous  gaze, 
As  torches  that  have  burnt  all  night 
Through  some  impure  and  godless  rite, 

Encounter  morning's  glorious  rays. 

But,  hark  !  the  vesper  call  to  prayer, 

As  slow  the  orb  of  daylight  sets, 
Is  rising  sweetly  on  the  air, 

From  SYRIA'S  thousand  minarets  ! 
The  boy  has  started  from  the  bed 
Of  flowers,  where  he  had  laid  his  head, 
And  down  upon  the  fragrant  sod 

Kneels,198  with  his  forehead  to  the  south, 
Lisping  the  eternal  name  of  God 

From  Purity's  own  cherub  mouth, 
And  looking,  while  his  hands  and  eyes 
Are  lifted  to  the  glowing  skies, 
Like  a  stray  babe  of  Paradise, 
Just  lighted  on  that  floAvery  plain, 
And  seeking  for  its  home  again. 
Oh !  'twas  a  sight  —  that  Heaven  —  that  child 
A  scene,  which  might  have  well  beguil'd 


Even  haughty  EBLIS  of  a  sigh 
For  glories  lost  and  peace  gone  by  ! 

And  how  felt  he,  the  wretched  Man 

Reclining  there  —  while  memory  ran 

O'er  many  a  year  of  guilt  and  strife, 

Flew  o'er  the  dark  flood  of  his  life, 

Nor  found  one  sunny  resting-place, 

Nor  brought  him  back  one  branch  of  grace  I 

"  There  was  a  time,"  he  said,  in  mild, 

Heart-humbled  tones  —  "  thou  blessed  child  ! 

When,  young  and  haply  pure  as  thou, 

I  look'd  and  pray'd  like  thee  ;  but  now  — " 

He  hung  his  head  —  each  nobler  aim, 

And  hope,  and  feeling,  which  had  slept 
From  boyhood's  hour,  that  instant  came 

Fresh  o'er  him,  and  he  wept  —  lie  wept ! 
Blest  tears  of  soul-felt  penitence  ! 

In  whose  benign,  redeeming  flow 
Is  felt  the  first,  the  only  sense 

Of  guiltless  joy  that  guilt  can  know. 

"  There's  a  drop,"  said  the  PERI,  "  that  down  from 

the  moon 

Falls  through  the  withering  airs  of  June 
Upon  EGYPT'S  land,194  of  so  healing  a  power, 
So  balmy  a  virtue,  that  e'en  in  the  hour 
The  droj)  descends,  contagion  dies, 
And  health  re-animates  earth  and  skies  !  — 
Oh,  is  it  not  thus,  thou  man  of  sin, 

The  precious  tears  of  repentance  fall  ? 
Though  foul  thy  fiery  plagues  within, 

One. heavenly  drop  hath  dispell'd  them  all  1" 

And  now  —  behold  him  kneeling  there 
By  the  child's  side,  in  humble  prayer, 


While  the  same  sunbeam  shines  upon 
The  guilty  and  the  guiltless  one, 
And  hymns  of  joy  proclaim  through  Heaven 
The  triumph  of  a  Soul  Forgiven ! 
'Twas  when  the  golden  orb  had  set, 
While  on  their  knees  they  linger'd  yet, 
There  fell  a  light  more  lovely  far 
Than  ever  came  from  sun  or  star, 
Upon  the  tear  that,  warm  and  meek, 
Dew'd  that  repentant  sinner's  cheek. 
To  mortal  eye  this  light  might  seem 
A  northern  flash  or  meteor  beam  — 
But  well  the  enraptur'd  PERI  knew 
'Twas  a  bright  smile  the  Angel  threw 
From  Heaven's  gate,  to  hail  that  tear 
Her  harbinger  of  glory  near  ! 

"  Joy,  joy  forever  !  my  task  is  done  — 
The  Gates  are  pass'd,  and  Heaven  is  won ! 
Oh !  am  I  not  happy  ?     I  am,  I  am  — 

To  thee,  sweet  Eden  !  how  dark  and  sad 
Are  the  diamond  turrets  of  SnADUKiAM,196 

And  the  fragrant  bowers  of  AMBERABAD  ! 
Farewell,  ye  odors  of  Earth,  that  die 
Passing  away  like  a  lover's  sigh ;  — 
My  feast  is  now  of  the  Tooba  Tree,196 
Whose  scent  is  the  breath  of  Eternity  ! 
Farewell,  ye  vanishing  flowers,  that  shone 

In  my  fairy  wreath,  so  bright  and  brief ;  — 
Oh !  what  are  the  brightest  that  e'er  have  blown, 
To  the  lote-tree,  springing  by  ALLA'S  throne,197 

Whose  flowers  have  a  soul  in  every  leaf ! 
Joy,  joy  forever!  — my  task  is  done  — 
The  Gates  are  pass'd,  and  Heaven  is  won ! " 

LALLA  ItOOKH.  119 

"  AXD  this,"  said  the  Great  Chamberlain,  "  is  poetry  !  this 
flimsy  manufacture  of  the  brain,  which,  in  comparison 
with  the  lofty  and  durable  monuments  of  genius,  is  as 
the  gold  filigree-work  of  Zamara  beside  the  eternal  arch- 
itecture of  Egypt ! "  After  this  gorgeous  sentence, 
which,  with  a  few  more  of  the  same  kind,  FADLADEKN 
kept  by  him  for  rare  and  important  occasions,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  anatomy  of  the  short  poem  just  recited. 
The  lax  and  easy  kind  of  metre  in  which  it  was  written 
ought  to  be  denounced,  he  said,  as  one  of  the  leading 
causes  of  the  alarming  growth  of  poetry  in  our  times. 
If  some  check  were  not  given  to  this  lawless  facility,  we 
should  soon  be  overrun  by  a  race  of  bards  as  numerous 
and  as  shallow  as  the  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
Streams  of  Basra.198  They  who  succeeded  in  this  style 
deserved  chastisement  for  their  very  success ;  —  as  war- 
riors have  been  punished,  even  after  gaining  a  victory, 
because  they  had  taken  the  liberty  of  gaining  it  in  an 
irregular  or  unestablished  manner.  What,  then,  was  to 
be  said  to  those  who  failed  ?  to  those  who  presumed,  as 
in  the  present  lamentable  instance,  to  imitate  the  license 
and  ease  of  the  bolder  sons  of  song,  without  any  of  that 
grace  or  vigor  which  gave  a  dignity  even  to  negligence; 
—  who,  like  them,  flung  the  jereed  199  carelessly,  but  not, 
like  them,  to  the  mark  ;  —  "  and  who,"  said  he,  raising 
his  voice,  to  excite  a  proper  degree  of  wakefulness  in  his 
hearers,  "contrive  to  appear  heavy  and  constrained  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  latitude  they  allow  themselves,  like 
one  of  those  young  pagans  that  dance  Iw-fore  the  1'rin- 
cess,  who  is  ingenious  enough  to  move  as  it'  her  limbs 
wore  fettered,  in  a  pair  of  the  lightest  and  loosest 
drawers  of  Mosul ipnt am  !" 

120  LALLA    KOOKH. 

It  was  but  little  suitable,  he  continued,  to  the  grave 
march  of  criticism  to  follow  this  fantastical  Peri,  of 
whom  they  had  just  heard,  through  all  her  flights  and 
adventures  between  earth  and  heaven ;  but  he  could  not 
help  adverting  to  the  puerile  conceitedness  of  the  Three 
Gifts  which  she  is  supposed  to  carry  to  the  skies,  —  a 
drop  of  blood,  forsooth,  a  sigh,  and  a  tear !  How  the 
first  of  these  articles  was  delivered  into  the  Angel's 
"radiant  hand"  he  professed  himself  at  a  loss  to  dis- 
cover ;  and  as  to  the  safe  carriage  of  the  sigh  and  the 
tear,  such  Peris  and  such  poets  were  beings  by  far  too 
incomprehensible  for  him  even  to  guess  how  they  man- 
aged such  matters.  "  But,  in  short,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a 
waste  of  time  and  patience  to  dwell  longer  upon  a  thing 
so  incurably  frivolous,  —  puny  even  among  its  own  puny 
race,  and  such  as  only  the  Banyan  Hospital  20°  for  Sick 
Insects  should  undertake." 

In  vain  did  LALLA  ROOKH  try  to  soften  this  inexor- 
able critic ;  in  vain  did  she  resort  to  her  most  eloquent 
common-places,  — reminding  him  that  poets  were  a  timid 
and  sensitive  race,  whose  sweetness  was  not  to  be  drawn 
forth,  like  that  of  the  fragrant  grass  near  the  Ganges,  by 
crushing  and  trampling  upon  them;201 — that  severity 
often  extinguished  every  chance  of  the  perfection  which 
it  demanded  ;  and  that,  after  all,  perfection  was  like  the 
Mountain  of  the  Talisman, — no  one  had  ever  yet 
reached  its  summit.202  Neither  these  gentle  axioms,  nor 
the  still  gentler  looks  with  which  they  were  inculcated, 
could  lower  for  one  instant  the  elevation  of  FADLADEEN'S 
eyebrows,  or  charm  him  into  anything  like  encourage- 
ment, or  even  toleration  of  her  poet.  Toleration,  indeed, 
was  not  among  the  weaknesses  of  FADLADEEN : — he 
carried  the  same  spirit  into  matters  of  poetry  and  of 
religion,  and,  though  little  versed  in  the  beauties  or  sub- 


limities  of  either,  was  a  perfect  master  of  the  art  of 
persecution  in  both.  His  zeal  was  the  same,  too,  in 
either  pursuit;  whether  the  game  before  him  was 
pagans  or  poetasters,  —  worshippers  of  cows,  or  writers 
of  epics. 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  splendid  city  of  Lahore, 
whose  mausoleums  and  shrines,  magnificent  and  number- 
less, where  Death  appeared  to  share  equal  honors  with 
Heaven,  would  have  powerfully  affected  the  heart  and 
imagination  of  LALLA  ROOKH,  if  feelings  more  of  this 
earth  had  not  taken  entire  possession  of  her  already. 
She  was  here  met  by  messengers,  despatched  from  Cash- 
mere, who  informed  her  that  the  King  had  arrived  in  the 
Valley,  and  was  himself  superintending  the  sumptuous 
preparations  that  were  then  making  in  the  Saloons  of  the 
Shalimar  for  her  reception.  The  chill  she  felt  on  re- 
ceiving this  intelligence,  —  which  to  a  bride  whose  heart 
was  free  and  light  would  have  brought  only  images  of 
affection  and  pleasure, — convinced  her  that  her  peace 
was  gone  forever,  and  that  she  was  in  love,  irretrievably 
in  love,  with  young  FEHAMOKZ.  The  veil  had  fallen  off 
in  which  this  passion  at  first  disguises  itself,  and  to  know 
that  she  loved  was  now  as  painful  as  to  love  irithout 
knowing  it  had  been  delicious.  FKRAMORZ,  too,  —  what 
misery  would  be  his,  if  the  sweet  hours  of  intercourse  so 
imprudently  allowed  them  should  have  stolen  into  his 
heart  the  same  fatal  fascination  as  into  hers;  —  if,  not- 
withstanding her  rank,  and  the  modest  homage  he 
always  paid  to  it,  even  he  should  have  yielded  to  the 
Influence  of  those  long  and  happy  intet  views,  where 
music,  poetry,  the  delightful  scenes  of  nature,  —  all  had 
tended  to  bring  their  hearts  close  together,  anil  to  waken 
by  every  means  that  too  ready  passion,  which  often,  like 
the  young  of  the  desert-bird,  is  warmed  into  life  by  tho 

122  LALLA   ROOKH. 

eyes  alone  ! 208  She  saw  but  one  way  to  preserve  herself 
from  being  culpable  as  well  as  unhappy,  and  this,  how- 
ever painful,  she  was  resolved  to  adopt.  FERAMORZ 
must  no  more  be  admitted  to  her  presence.  To  have 
strayed  so  far  into  the  dangerous  labyrinth  was  wrong, 
but  to  linger  in  it,  while  the  clew  was  yet  in  her  hand, 
would  be  criminal.  Though  the  heart  she  had  to  offer 
to  the  King  of  Bucharia  might  be  cold  and  broken,  it 
should  at  least  be  pure ;  and  she  must  only  endeavor  to 
forget  the  short  dream  of  happiness  she  had  enjoyed,  — 
like  that  Arabian  shepherd,  who,  in  wandering  into  the 
wilderness,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Gardens  of  Irem, 
and  then  lost  them  again  forever ! 204 

The  arrival  of  the  young  Bride  at  Lahore  was  cele- 
brated in  the  most  enthusiastic  manner.  The  Rajas  and 
Omras  in  her  train,  who  had  kept  at  a  certain  distance 
during  the  journey,  and  never  encamped  nearer  to  the 
Princess  than  was  strictly  necessary  for  her  safeguard, 
here  rode  in  splendid  cavalcade  through  the  city,  and 
distributed  the  most  costly  presents  to  the  crowd.  En- 
gines were  erected  in  all  the  squares,  which  cast  forth 
showers  of  confectionery  among  the  people ;  while  the 
artisans,  in  chariots205  adorned  with  tinsel  and  flying 
streamers,  exhibited  the  badges  of  their  respective  trades 
through  the  streets.  Such  brilliant  displays  of  life  and 
pageantry  among  the  palaces,  and  domes,  and  gilded 
minarets  of  Lahore,  made  the  city  altogether  like  a 
place  of  enchantment;  —  particularly  on  the  day  when 
LALLA  ROOKH  set  out  again  upon  her  journey,  when  she 
was  accompanied  to  the  gate  by  all  the  fairest  and  richest 
of  the  nobility,  and  rode  along  between  ranks  of  beauti- 
ful boys  and  girls,  who  kept  waving  over  their  heads 
plates  of  gold  and  silver  flowers,206  and  then  threw  them 
around  to  be  gathered  by  the  populace. 


For  many  days  after  their  departure  from  Lahore,  a 
considerable  degree  of  gloom  hung  over  the  whole  party. 
LALLA  ROOKII,  who  had  intended  to  make  illness  her 
excuse  for  not  admitting  the  young  minstrel,  as  usual,  to 
the  pavilion,  soon  found  that  to  feign  indisposition  was 
unnecessary;  —  FADLADEEN  felt  the  loss  of  the  good 
road  they  had  hitherto  travelled,  and  was  very  near  curs- 
ing Jehan-Guire  (of  blessed  memory !)  for  not  having 
continued  his  delectable  alley  of  trees,207  at  least  as  far 
as  the  mountains  of  Cashmere ;  —  while  the  Ladies,  who 
had  nothing  now  to  do  all  day  but  to  be  fanned  by  peacocks' 
feathers  and  listen  to  FADLADEEN,  seemed  heartily  weary 
of  the  life  they  led,  and,  in  spite  of  all  the  Great  Cham- 
berlain's criticisms,  were  so  tasteless  as  to  wish  for  the 
poet  again.  One  evening,  as  they  were  proceeding  to 
their  place  of  rest  for  the  night,  the  Princess,  who,  for 
the  freer  enjoyment  of  the  air,  had  mounted  her  favorite 
Arabian  palfrey,  in  passing  by  a  small  grove,  heard  the 
notes  of  a  lute  from  within  its  leaves,  and  a  voice,  which 
she  but  too  well  knew,  singing  the  following  words :  — 

TELL  me  not  of  joys  above, 

If  that  world  can  give  no  bliss, 
Truer,  happier  than  the  Love 

Which  enslaves  our  souls  in  this. 

Tell  me  not  of  Houris'  eyes ;  — 
Far  from  me  their  dangerous  glow, 

If  those  looks  that  light  the  skies 
Wound  like  some  that  burn  below. 

Who,  that  fools  what  Love  is  here, 
All  its  falsehood  — all  its  pain  — 

Would,  for  even  Elysium's  sphere, 
Risk  tho  fatal  dream  attain  '.' 


Who,  that  midst  a  desert's  heat 
Sees  the  waters  fade  away, 

Would  not  rather  die  than  meet 
Streams  again  as  false  as  they  ? 

The  tone  of  melancholy  defiance  in  which  these  words 
were  uttered,  went  to  LALLA  ROOKH'S  heart ;  —  and,  as 
she  reluctantly  rode  on,  she  could  not  help  feeling  it  to 
be  a  sad  but  still  sweet  certainty,  that  FERAMORZ  was  to 
the  full  as  enamoured  and  miserable  as  herself. 

The  place  where  they  encamped  that  evening  was  the 
first  delightful  spot  they  had  come  to  since  they  left 
Lahore.  On  each  side  of  them  was  a  grove  full  of  small 
Hindoo  temples,  and  planted  with  the  most  graceful 
trees  of  the  East ;  where  the  tamarind,  the  cassia,  and 
the  silken  plantains  of  Ceylon  were  mingled  in  rich  con- 
trast with  the  high  fan-like  foliage  of  the  Palmyra,  — 
that  favorite  tree  of  the  luxurious  bird  that  lights  up 
the  chambers  of  its  nest  with  fire-flies.208  In  the  middle 
of  the  lawn  wrhere  the  pavilion  stood  there  was  a  tank 
surrounded  by  small  mango-trees,  on  the  clear  cold 
waters  of  which  floated  multitudes  of  the  beautiful  red 
lotus ; 209  while  at  a  distance  stood  the  ruins  of  a  strange 
and  awful-looking  tower,  which  seemed  old  enough  to 
have  been  the  temple  of  some  religion  no  longer  known, 
and  which  spoke  the  voice  of  desolation  in  the  midst  of 
all  that  bloom  and  loveliness.  This  singular  ruin  excited 
the  wonder  and  conjectures  of  all.  LALLA  EOOKH 
guessed  in  vain,  and  the  all-pretending  FADLADEEN,  who 
had  never  till  this  journey  been  beyond  the  precincts  of 
Delhi,  was  proceeding  most  learnedly  to  show  that  he 
knew  nothing  whatever  about  the  matter,  when  one  of 
the  Ladies  suggested  that  perhaps  FERAMORZ  could 

LALLA   KOOKH.  125 

satisfy  their  curiosity.  They  were  now  approaching  his 
native  mountains,  and  this  tower  might  perhaps  be  a 
relic  of  some  of  those  dark  superstitions  which  had  pre- 
vailed in  that  country  before  the  light  of  Islam  dawned 
upon  it.  The  Chamberlain,  who  usually  preferred  his 
own  ignorance  to  the  best  knowledge  that  any  one  else 
could  give  him,  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  this 
officious  reference ;  and  the  Princess,  too,  was  about  to 
interpose  a  faint  word  of  objection,  but,  before  either  of 
them  could  speak,  a  slave  was  despatched  for  FERAMOHZ, 
who,  in  a  very  few  minutes,  made  his  appearance  before 
them  —  looking  so  pale  and  unhappy  in  LALLA  ROOKII'S 
eyes,  that  she  repented  already  of  her  cruelty  in  having 
so  long  excluded  him. 

That  venerable  tower,  he  told  them,  was  the  remains 
of  an  ancient  Fire-temple,  built  by  those  Ghebers  or 
Persians  of  the  old  religion,  who,  many  hundred  years 
since,  had  fled  hither  from  their  Arab  conquerors,210  pre- 
ferring lilM?rty  and  their  altars  in  a  foreign  land  to  the 
alternative  of  apostasy  or  persecution  in  their  own.  It 
was  impossible,  he  added,  not  to  feel  interested  in  the 
many  glorious  but  unsuccessful  struggles  which  had  been 
made  by  these  original  natives  of  Persia  to  cast  off  the 
yoke  of  their  bigoted  conquerors.  Like  their  own  Fire 
in  the  Burning  Field  at  Bakou,211  when  suppressed  in 
one  place,  they  had  but  broken  out  with  fresh  flame  in 
another ;  and,  as  a  native  of  Cashmere,  of  that  fair  and 
Holy  Valley  which  had  in  the  same  manner  become  the 
prey  of  strangers,81*  and  seen  her  ancient  shrines  and 
native  princes  swept  away  before  the  inarch  of  her  intol- 
erant invaders,  he  felt  a  sympathy,  he  owned,  with  the 
sufferings  of  the  persecuted  (Jhebers,  which  every  monu- 
ment like  this  before  them  but  tended  more  powerfully 
to  awaken. 


It  was  the  first  time  that  FERAMORZ  had  ever  ven- 
tured upon  so  much  prose  before  FADLADEEN,  and  it  may 
easily  be  conceived  what  effect  such  prose  as  this  must 
have  produced  upon  that  most  orthodox  and  most  pagan- 
hating  personage.  He  sat  for  some  minutes  aghast, 
ejaculating  only  at  intervals,  "Bigoted  conquerors!  — 
sympathy  with  Fire-worshippers  !  " 213 — while  FERAMORE, 
happy  to  take  advantage  of  this  almost  speechless  horror 
of  the  Chamberlain,  proceeded  to  say  that  he  knew  a 
melancholy  story,  connected  with  the  events  of  one  of 
those  struggles  of  the  brave  Fire-worshippers  against 
their  Arab  masters,  which,  if  the  evening  was  not  too 
far  advanced,  he  should  have  much  pleasure  in  being 
allowed  to  relate  to  the  Princess.  It  was  impossible  foi 
LALLA  ROOKH  to  refuse ;  —  he  had  never  before  looked 
half  so  animated ;  and  when  he  spoke  of  the  Holy  Val- 
ley, his  eyes  had  sparkled,  she  thought,  like  the  talis- 
manic  characters  on  the  scimitar  of  Solomon.  Her 
consent  was  therefore  most  readily  granted ;  and  while 
FADLADEEN  sat  in  unspeakable  dismay,  expecting  trea- 
son and  abomination  in  every  line,  the  poet  thus  began 
his  story  of  the  Fire-worshippers  :  — 


'Tis  moonlight  over  OMAN'S  SEA  ; 2U 

Her  banks  of  pearl  and  balmy  isles 
Bask  in  the  night-beam  beauteously, 

And  her  blue  waters  sleep  in  smiles. 
'Tis  moonlight  in  HARMOZIA'S  216  walls, 
And  through  her  EM  IK'S  porphyry  halls, 
Where,  some  hours  since,  was  heard  the  swell 
Of  trumpet  and  the  clash  of  zel,218 
Bidding  the  bright-eyed  sun  farewell ;  — 
The  peaceful  sun,  whom  better  suits 

The  music  of  the  bulbul's  nest, 
Or  the  light  touch  of  lovers'  lutes, 

To  sing  him  to  his  golden  rest. 
All  hush'd  —  there's  not  a  breeze  in  motion; 
The  shore  is  silent  as  the  ocean. 
If  zephyrs  come,  so  light  they  come, 

Nor  leaf  is  stirr'd  nor  wave  is  driven;  — 
The  wind-tower  on  the  KM i it's  dome217 

Can  hardly  win  a  breath  from  heaven. 

Even  he,  that  tyrant  Arab,  sleeps 
Culm,  while  a  nation  round  him  weeps; 
\Vhiie  curses  load  the  air  lie  breathes, 
And  falchions  from  unnuinber'd  sheaths 
Are  starting  to  avenge  the  shame 
His  rare  h;>th  brought  on  IRAN'S  •IH  name. 
Hard,  heartless  Chief,  unmov'd  alike 
'Mill  eyes  that  weep,  and  swords  that  strike ;- 


One  of  that  saintly,  murderous  brood, 

To  carnage  and  the  Koran  given, 
Who  think  through  unbeliever's  blood 

Lies  their  directest  path  to  heaven ;  — 
One,  who  will  pause  and  kneel  unshod 

In  the  warm  blood  his  hand  hath  pour'd, 
To  mutter  o'er  some  text  of  God 

Engraven  on  his  reeking  sword ; 219 
Nay,  who  can  coolly  note  the  line, 
The  letter  of  those  words  divine, 
To  which  his  blade,  with  searching  art, 
Had  sunk  into  its  victim's  heart ! 

Just  ALLA  !  what  must  be  thy  look, 

When  such  a  wretch  before  thee  stands 
Unblushing,  with  thy  Sacred  Book,  — 

Turning  the  leaves  with  blood-stain'd  hands, 
And  wresting  from  its  page  sublime 
His  creed  of  lust,  and  hate,  and  crime ; 
Even  as  those  bees  of  TREBIZOND, 

Which,  from  the  sunniest  flowers  that  glad 
With  their  pure  smile  the  gardens  round, 

Draw  venom  forth  that  drives  men  mad.220 

Never  did  fierce  ARABIA  send 

A  satrap  forth  more  direly  great ; 
Never  was  IRAX  doom'd  to  bend 

Beneath  a  yoke  of  deadlier  weight. 
Her  throne  had  fallen  —  her  pride  was  crush'd  — 
Her  sons  were  willing  slaves,  nor  blush'd, 
In  their  own  land,  —  no  more  their  own,  — 
To  crouch  beneath  a  stranger's  throne. 
Her  towers,  where  MITHRA  once  had  burn'd, 
To  Moslem  shrines — oh  shame  !  —  were  turn'd, 
Where  slaves,  converted  by  the  sword, 


Their  mean,  apostate  worship  pour'd, 

And  curs'd  the  faith  their  sires  ador'd. 

Yet  has  she  hearts,  'mid  all  this  ill, 

O'er  all  this  wreck  high,  buoyant  still 

With  hope  and  vengeance  ;  —  hearts  that  yet  — 

Like  gems,  in  darkness,  issuing  rays 
They've  treasur'd  from  the  sun  that's  set,  — 

Beam  all  the  light  of  long-lost  days  ! 
And  swords  she  hath,  nor  weak  nor  slow 

To  second  all  such  hearts  can  dare ; 
As  he  shall  know,  well,  dearly  know, 

Who  sleeps  in  moonlight  luxury  there, 
Tranquil  as  if  his  spirit  lay 
Becalm'd  in  Heaven's  approving  ray. 
Sleep  on  —  for  purer  eyes  than  thine 
Those  waves  are  hush'd,  those  planets  shine ; 
Sleep  on,  and  be  thy  rest  unmov'd 

By  the  white  moonbeam's  dazzling  power ;  — 
None  but  the  loving  and  the  lov'd 

Should  be  awake  at  this  sweet  hour. 

And  see  —  where,  high  above  those  rocks 
That  o'er  the  deep  their  shadows  fling, 

Yon  turret  stands  ;  —  where  ebon  locks, 
As  glossy  as  a  heron's  wing 
Upon  the  turban  of  a  king,221 

Hang  from  the  lattice,  long  and  wild  — 

'Tis  she,  that  EMIR'S  blooming  child, 

All  truth  and  tenderness  and  grace, 

Though  born  of  such  ungentle  r;u-e ;  — • 

An  image  of  Youth's  radiant  Fountain 

Springing  in  a  desolate  mountain  !2M 

Oh  what  a  pure  and  sacred  thing 
la  beauty,  curtain'd  from  the  sijjht 


Of  the  gross  world,  illumining 
One  only  mansion  with,  her  light ! 

Unseen  by  man's  disturbing  eye,  — 

The  flower  that  blooms  beneath  the  sea, 

Too  deep  for  sunbeams,  doth  not  lie 
Hid  in  more  chaste  obscurity. 

So,  HINDA,  have  thy  face  and  mind, 

Like  holy  mysteries,  lain  enshrin'd. 

And  oh,  what  transport  for  a  lover 
To  lift  the  veil  that  shades  them  o'er !  — 

Like  those  who,  all  at  once,  discover 
In  the  lone  deep  some  fairy  shore, 
Where  mortal  never  trod  before, 

And  sleep  and  wake  in  scented  airs 

No  lip  had  ever  breath'd  but  theirs. 

Beautiful  are  the  maids  that  glide, 

On  summer-eves,  through  YEMEN'S  228  dales, 
And  bright  the  glancing  looks  they  hide 

Behind  their  litters'  roseate  veils ;  — 
And  brides,  as  delicate  and  fair 
As  the  white  jasmine  flowers  they  wear, 
Hath  YEMEN  in  her  blissful  clime, 

Who,  lull'd  in  cool  kiosk  or  bower,224 
Before  their  mirrors  count  the  time,226 

And  grow  still  lovelier  every  hour. 
But  never  yet  hath  bride  or  maid 

In  ARABY'S  gay  Haram  smil'd, 
Whose  boasted  brightness  would  not  fade 

Before  AL  HASSAN'S  blooming  child. 

Light  as  the  angel  shapes  that  bless 
An  infant's  dream,  yet  not  the  less 
Rich  in  all  woman's  loveliness ;  — 
With  eyes  so  pure,  that  from  their  ray 


Dark  Vice  would  turn  abash'd  away, 
Blinded  like  serpents,  when  they  gaze 
Upon  the  emerald's  virgin  blaze ; 226  — 
Yet  fill'd  with  all  youth's  sweet  desires, 
Mingling  the  meek  and  vestal  fires 
Of  other  worlds  with  all  the  bliss, 
The  fond,  weak  tenderness  of  this  : 
A  soul,  too,  more  than  half  divine, 

Where,  through  some  shades  of  earthly  feeling, 
Religion's  soften'd  glories  shine, 

Like  light  through  summer  foliage  stealing, 
Shedding  a  glow  of  such  mild  hue, 
So  warm,  and  yet  so  shadowy  too, 
As  makes  the  very  darkness  there 
More  beautiful  than  light  elsewhere. 

Such  is  the  maid  who,  at  this  hour, 

Hath  risen  from  her  restless  sleep, 
And  sits  alone  in  that  high  bower, 

Watching  the  still  and  shining  deep. 
Ah  !  'twas  not  thus,  —  with  tearful  eyes 

And  beating  heart,  — she  used  to  gaze 
On  the  magnificent  earth  and  skies, 

In  her  own  land,  in  happier  days. 
Why  looks  she  now  so  anxious  down 
Among  those  rocks,  whose  rugged  frown 

Blackens  the  mirror  of  the  deep? 
Whom  waits  she  all  this  lonely  night? 

Too  rough  the  rocks,  too  bold  the  steep, 
For  man  to  scale  that  turret's  height !  — 

So  deenfd  at  least  her  thoughtful  sire, 
When  high,  to  catch  the  cool  night-air, 

After  the  day-beam's  withering  fire,227 
He  built  her  bower  of  freshness  there, 

132  LALLA   EOOKB.. 

And  had  it  deck'd  with  costliest  skill, 

And  fondly  thought  it  safe  as  fair :  — 
Think,  reverend  dreamer !  think  so  still, 

Nor  wake  to  learn  what  Love  can  dare ;  — 
Love,  all-defying  Love,  who  sees 
No  charm  in  trophies  won  with  ease ; 
Whose  rarest,  dearest  fruits  of  bliss 
Are  pluck' d  on  Danger's  precipice  ! 
Bolder  than  they  who  dare  not  dive 

For  pearls,  but  when  the  sea's  at  rest, 
Love,  in  the  tempest  most  alive, 

Hath  ever  held  that  pearl  the  best 
He  finds  beneath  the  stormiest  water. 
Yes  —  ARABY'S  unrivall'd  daughter, 
Though  high  that  tower,  that  rock-way  rude, 

There's  one  who,  but  to  kiss  thy  cheek, 
Would  climb  the  untrodden  solitude 

Of  ARARAT'S  tremendous  peak,228 
And  think  its  steeps,  though  dark  and  dread, 
Heaven's  pathways,  if  to  thee  they  led  ! 
Even  now  thou  seest  the  flashing  spray, 
That  lights  his  oar's  impatient  way  ;  — 
Even  now  thou  hear'st  the  sudden  shock 
Of  his  swift  bark  against  the  rock, 
And  stretchest  down  thy  arms  of  snow, 
As  if  to  lift  him  from  below ! 
Like  her  to  whom,  at  dead  of  night, 
The  bridegroom,  with  his  locks  of  light,229  ' 
Came,  in  the  flush  of  love  and  pride, 
And  scal'd  the  terrace  of  his  bride  ;  — 
When,  as  she  saw  him  rashly  spring, 
And  midway  up  in  danger  cling, 
She  flung  him  down  her  long  black  hair, 
Exclaiming,  breathless,  u  There,  love,  there ! " 
And  scarce  did  manlier  nerve  uphold 


The  hero  ZAL  in  that  fond  hour, 
Than  wings  the  youth  who,  fleet  and  bold, 

Now  climbs  the  rocks  to  HINUA'S  bower. 
See  —  light  as  up  their  granite  steeps 

The  rock-goats  of  ARABIA  clamber,280 
Fearless  from  crag  to  crag  he  leaps, 

And  now  is  in  the  maiden's  chamber 

She  loves  —  but  knows  not  whom  she  loves. 

Nor  what  his  race,  nor  whence  he  came ;  — 
Like  one  who  meets,  in  Indian  groves, 

Some  beauteous  bird  without  a  name, 
Brought  by  the  last  ambrosial  breeze, 
From  isles  in  the  undiscover'd  seas, 
To  show  his  plumage  for  a  day 
To  wondering  eyes,  and  wing  away ! 
Will  he  thus  fly  —  her  nameless  lover  ? 

ALLA  forbid  !  'twas  by  a  moon 
As  fair  as  this,  while  singing  over 

Some  ditty  to  her  soft  Kanoon,281 
Alone,  at  this  same  witching  hour, 

She  first  beheld  his  radiant  eyes 
Gleam  through  the  lattice  of  the  bower, 

Where  nightly  now  they  mix  their  sighs ; 
And  thought  some  spirit  of  the  air 
(For  what  could  waft  a  mortal  there  ?) 
Was  pausing  on  his  moonlit  way 
To  listen  to  her  lonely  lay  ! 
This  fancy  ne'er  hath  left  her  mind: 

And  though,  when  terror's  swoon  had  past, 
She  saw  a  youth,  of  mortal  kind, 

Before  her  in  obeisance  cast, 
Yet  often  since,  when  he  hath  spoken 
Strange,  awful  words,  —  and  gleams  have  broker, 
From  his  dark  eyes,  too  bright  to  bear,  — 


Oh !  she  hath  fear'd  her  soul  was  given 
To  some  unhallow'd  child  of  air, 

Some  erring  Spirit  cast  from  heaven, 
Like  those  angelic  youths  of  old, 
Who  burn'd  for  maids  of  mortal  mould, 
Bewilder'd  left  the  glorious  skies, 
And  lost  their  heaven  for  woman's  eyes. 
Fond  girl !  nor  fiend  nor  angel  he 
Who  woos  thy  young  simplicity ; 
But  one  of  earth's  impassion'd  sons, 

As  warm  in  love,  as  fierce  in  ire, 
As  the  best  heart  whose  current  runs 

Full  of  the  Day-God's  living  fire. 
But  quench'd  to-night  that  ardor  seems, 

And  pale  his  cheek,  and  sunk  his  brow ;  • 
Never  before,  but  in  her  dreams, 

Had  she  beheld  him  pale  as  now  : 
And  those  were  dreams  of  troubled  sleep, 
From  which  'twas  joy  to  wake  and  weep ; 
Visions,  that  will  not  be  forgot, 

But  sadden  every  waking  scene, 
Like  warning  ghosts,  that  leave  the  spot 

All  wither'd  where  they  once  have  been. 

"  How  sweetly,"  said  the  trembling  maid, 

Of  her  own  gentle  voice  afraid, 

So  long  had  they  in  silence  stood, 

Looking  upon  that  tranquil  flood  — 

"  How  sweetly  does  the  moonbeam  smile 

To-night  upon  yon  leafy  isle  ! 

Oft,  in  my  fancy's  wanderings, 

I've  wish'd  that  little  isle  had  wings, 

And  we,  within  Us  fairy  bowers, 

Were  wafted  off  to  seas  unknown 
Where  not  a  pulse  should  beat  but  ours, 


And  we  might  live,  love,  die  alone ! 
Far  from  the  cruel  and  the  cold,  — 

Where  the  bright  eyes  of  angels  only 
Should  come  around  us,  to  behold 

A  paradise  so  pure  and  lonely. 
Would  this  be  world  enough  for  thee  ?  "  — 
Playful  she  turn'd,  that  he  might  see 

The  passing  smile  her  cheek  put  on ; 
But  when  she  mark'd  how  mournfully 

His  eyes  met  hers,  that  smile  was  gone ; 
And,  bursting  into  heartfelt  tears, 
"  Yes,  yes,"  she  cried,  "  my  hourly  fears, 
My  dreams  have  boded  all  too  right  — 
We  part  —  forever  part  —  to-night ! 
I  knew,  I  knew  it  could  not  last  — 
'Twas  bright,  'twas  heavenly,  but  'tis  past  I 
Oh  !  ever  thus,  from  childhood's  hour, 

I've  seen  my  fondest  hopes  decay ; 
I  never  lov'd  a  tree  or  flower, 

But  'twas  the  first  to  fade  away. 
I  never  nurs'd  a  dear  gazelle, 

To  glad  me  with  its  soft  black  eye, 
But  when  it  came  to  know  me  well, 

And  love  me,  it  was  sure  to  die  ! 
Now  too  — the  joy  most  like  divine 

Of  all  I  ever  dreamt  or  knew, 
To  see  thee,  hear  thee,  call  thee  mine,  — 

Oh  misery  !  must  T  lose  that  too  ? 
Yet  go  — on  peril's  brink  we  meet;  — 

Those  frightful  rocks — that  treacherous  sea  — 
No,  never  come  again  —  though  sweet, 

Though  heaven,  it  may  be  death  to  thee. 
Farewell — and  blessings  on  thy  way, 

Where'er  thou  guest,  beloved  stranger! 
Better  to  sit  and  watch  that  ray, 


And  think  thee  safe,  though  far  away, 
Than  have  thee  near  me,  and  in  danger ! " 

"  Danger !  —  oh,  tempt  me  not  to  boast  —  " 
The  youth  exclam'd  —  "  thou  little  know'st 
What  he  can  brave,  who,  born  and  nurst 
In  Danger's  paths,  has  dar'd  her  worst ; 
Upon  whose  ear  the  signal  word 

Of  strife  and  death  is  hourly  breaking ; 
Who  sleeps  with  head  upon  the  sword 

His  fever'd  hand  must  grasp  in  waking. 
Danger !  —  " 

"  Say  on  —  thou  fear'st  not  then, 
And  we  may  meet  —  oft  meet  again  ?  " 


"  Oh !  look  not  so  —  beneath  the  skies 
I  now  fear  nothing  but  those  eyes. 
•      If  aught  on  earth  could  charm  or  force 
My  spirit  from  its  destin'd  course,  — 
If  aught  could  make  this  soul  forget 
The  bond  to  which  its  seal  is  set, 
'Twould  be  those  eyes ;  —  they,  only  they, 
Could  melt  that  sacred  seal  away  ! 
But  no  —  'tis  fix'd  —  my  awful  doom 
Is  fix'd  —  on  this  side  of  the  tomb 
We  meet  no  more ;  —  why,  why  did  Heaven 
Mingle  two  souls  that  earth  has  riven, 
Has  rent  asunder  wide  as  ours  ? 
0  Arab  maid,  as  soon  the  Powers 
Of  Light  and  Darkness  may  combine, 
As  I  be  link'd  with  thee  or  thine ! 
Thy  Father  - 

"  Holy  ALLA  save 

His  gray  head  from  that  lightning  glance ! 
Thou  know'st  him  not  —  he  loves  the  brave ; 


Nor  lives  there  under  heaven's  expanse 
One  who  would  prize,  would  worship  thee 
And  thy  bold  spirit,  more  than  he. 
Oft  when,  iii  childhood,  I  have  play'd 

With  the  bright  falchion  by  his  side, 
I've  heard  him  swear  his  lisping  maid 

In  time  should  be  a  warrior's  bride. 
And  still,  whene'er  at  Haram  hours 
I  take  him  cool  sherbets  and  flowers, 
He  tells  me,  when  in  playful  mood, 

A  hero  shall  my  bridegroom  be, 
Since  maids  are  best  in  battle  woo'd, 

And  won  with  shouts  of  victory  ! 
Nay,  turn  not  from  me  —  thou  alone 
Art  form'd  to  make  both  hearts  thy  own. 
Go  —  join  his  sacred  ranks  —  thou  know'st 

The  unholy  strife  these  Persians  wage:  — 
Good  Heaven,  that  frown!  —  even  now  thou  glow'st 

With  more  than  mortal  warrior's  rage. 
Haste  to  the  camp  by  morning's  light, 
And  when  that  sword  is  rais'd  in  tight, 
Oh  still  remember,  Love  and  I 
Beneath  its  shadow  trembling  lie  ! 
One  victory  o'er  those  Slaves  of  Fire, 
Those  impious  Ghebers,  whom  my  sire 

Abhors " 

"Hold,  hold  — thy  words  are  death—" 

The  stranger  cried,  as  wild  he  flung 
His  m;i  11  tli-  bark,  and  show'd  beneath 

The  Ghrber  belt  that  round  him  clung282  — 
"Hen-,  maiden,  look  — weep  —  blush  to  see 
All  that  thy  sire  abhors  in  me  ! 
Yes  —  /  am  of  that  impious  race, 

Those  Slaves  of  Fire,  who,  morn  and  even, 
Hail  their  Creator's  dwelling-place 


Among  the  living  lights  of  heaven : 288 
Yes — /am  of  that  outcast  few, 
To  IRAN  and  to  vengeance  true, 
Who  curse  the  hour  your  Arabs  came 
To  desolate  our  shrines  of  flame, 
And  swear,  before  God's  burning  eye, 
To  break  our  country's  chains,  or  die  ! 
Thy  bigot  sire,  —  nay,  tremble  not,  — 

He,  who  gave  birth  to  those  dear  eyes, 
With  me  is  sacred  as  the  spot 

From  which  our  fires  of  worship  rise ! 
But  know  —  'twas  he  I  sought  that  night, 

When,  from  my  watch-boat  on  the  sea, 
I  caught  this  turret's  glimmering  light, 

And  up  the  rude  rocks  desperately 
Rush'd  to  my  prey — thou  know'st  the  rest  — 
I  climb'd  the  gory  vulture's  nest, 
And  found  a  trembling  dove  within ;  — 
Thine,  thine  the  victory  —  thine  the  sin  — 
If  Love  hath  made  one  thought  his  own, 
That  Vengeance  claims  first  —  last  —  alone  ! 
Oh  !  had  we,  never,  never  met, 
Or  could  this  heart  e'en  now  forget 
How  link'd,  how  bless'd  we  might  have  been, 
Had  fate  not  frown'd  so  dark  between ! 
Hadst  thou  been  born  a  Persian  maid, 
In  neighboring  valleys  had  we  dwelt, 
Through  the  same  fields  in  childhood  play'd, 

At  the  same  kindling  altar  knelt,  — 
Then,  then,  while  all  those  nameless  ties, 
In  which  the  charm  of  Country  lies, 
Had  round  our  hearts  been  hourly  spun, 
Till  IRAN'S  cause  and  thine  were  one ; 
While  in  thy  lute's  awakening  sigh 
T  ^ieard  the  voice  of  days  gone  by, 


And  saw,  in  every  smile  of  thine, 
Returning  hours  of  glory  shine ;  — 
While  the  wrong'd  Spirit  of  our  Land 

Liv'd,  look'd,  and  spoke  her  wrongs  through  thee, — •• 
God  !  who  could  then  this  sword  withstand  ? 

Its  very  flash  were  victory ! 
But  now  —  estrang'd,  divorc'd  forever, 
Far  as  the  grasp  of  Fate  can  sever ; 
Our  only  ties  what  love  has  wove,  — 

In  faith,  friends,  country,  sunder'd  wide ; 
And  then,  then  only,  true  to  love, 

When  false  to  all  that's  dear  beside  ! 
Thy  father,  IRAN'S  deadliest  foe  — 
Thyself  perhaps,  even  now  — but  no  — 
Hate  never  look'd  so  lovely  yet ! 

No  —  sacred  to  thy  soul  will  be 
The  land  of  him  who  could  forget 

All  but  that  bleeding  land  for  thee. 
When  other  eyes  shall  see,  unmov'd, 

Her  widows  mourn,  her  warriors  fall, 
Thou'lt  think  how  well  one  Gheber  lov'd, 

And  for  his  sake  thou'lt  weep  for  all  ! 
But  look  - 

With  sudden  start  he  turn'd 

And  pointed  to  the  distant  wave, 
Where  lights,  like  charnel  meteors,  burn'd 

Blucly,  as  o'er  some  seaman's  grave  ; 
And  fiery  darts,  at  intervals,284 

Flew  up  all  sparkling  from  the  main, 
As  if  each  star  that  nightly  falls 

Were  shooting  back  to  heaven  again. 
"  My  signal  lights  !  —  I  must  away  — 
Both,  both  are  ruin'd.  if  I  stay. 
Farewell  — sweet  life!  thou  cling'st  in  vain  — 
Now,  Vengeance,  I  am  thine  again  !  " 

140  LALLA   ROOKH. 

Fiercely  he  broke  away,  nor  stopp'd, 

Nor  look'd  —  but  from  the  lattice  dropp'd 

Down  'mid  the  pointed  crags  beneath, 

As  if  he  fled  from  love  to  death. 

While  pale  and  mute  young  HINDA  stood; 

Nor  mov'd,  till  in  the  silent  flood 

A  momentary  plunge  below 

Startled  her  from  her  trance  of  woe  ;  — 

Shrieking  she  to  the  lattice  flew, 

"  I  come  —  I  come  —  if  in  that  tide 
Thou  sleep'st  to-night,  I'll  sleep  there  too, 

In  death's  cold  wedlock,  by  thy  side. 
Oh !  I  would  ask  no  happier  bed 

Than  the  chill  wave  my  love  lies  under : 
Sweeter  to  rest  together  dead, 

Far  sweeter,  than  to  live  asunder  !  " 
But  no  —  their  hour  is  not  yet  come  — 

Again  she  sees  his  pinnace  fly, 
Wafting  him  fleetly  to  his  home, 

Where'er  that  ill-starr'd  home  may  lie ; 
And  calm  and  smooth  it  seem'd  to  win 

Its  moonlit  way  before  the  wind, 
As  if  it  bore  all  peace  within, 

Nor  left  one  breaking  heart  behind  f 


THE  Princess,  whose  heart  was  sad  enough  already,  could 
have  wished  that  FERAMORZ  had  chosen  a  less  melan- 
choly story ;  as  it  is  only  to  the  happy  that  tears  are  a 
luxury.  Her  ladies,  however,  were  by  no  means  sorry 
that  love  was  once  more  the  Poet's  theme ;  for,  whenever 
he  spoke  of  love,  they  said,  his  voice  was  as  sweet  as  if 
he  had  chewed  the  leaves  of  that  enchanted  tree  which 
grows  over  the  tomb  of  the  musician,  Tan-Seiu.235 

Their  road  all  the  morning  had  lain  througn  a  very 
dreary  country ;  —  through  valleys,  covered  with  a  low 
bushy  jungle,  where,  in  more  than  one  place,  the  awful 
signal  of  the  bamboo  staff,230  with  the  white  flag  at  its 
top,  reminded  the  traveller  that,  in  that  very  spot,  the 
tiger  had  made  some  human  creature  his  victim.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  much  pleasure  that  they  arrived  at  sun- 
set in  a  safe  and  lovely  glen,  and  encamped  under  one  of 
those  holy  trees  whose  smooth  columns  and  spreading 
roofs  seem  to  destine  them  for  natural  temples  of  relig- 
ion. Beneath  this  spacious  shade,  some  pious  hands  had 
erected  a  row  of  pillars  ornamented  with  the  most  beau- 
tiful porcelain,8*1  which  now  supplied  the  use  of  mirrors 
to  the  young  maidens,  as  they  adjusted  their  hair  in  de- 
scending from  the  palankeens.  Here,  while,  as  usual, 
the  Princess  sat  listening  anxiously,  with  FAIU.ADKKX  in 
one  of  his  loftiest  moods  of  criticism  by  her  side,  the 
young  Poet,  leaning  against  a  branch  of  the  tree,  thus 
continued  hia  story  :  — 


THE  morn  hath  risen  clear  and  calm, 

And  o'er  the  Green  Sea 288  palely  shines, 
Revealing  BAHREIN'S  289  groves  of  palm, 

And  lighting  KISHMA'S  239  amber  vines. 
Fresh  smell  the  shores  of  ABABY, 
While  breezes  from  the  Indian  sea 
Blow  round  SELAMA'S  24°  sainted  cape, 

And  curl  the  shining  flood  beneath,  — 
Whose  waves  are  rich  with  many  a  grape, 

And  cocoa-nut  and  flowery  wreath, 
Which  pious  seamen,  as  they  pass'd, 
Had  tow'rd  that  holy  headland  cast  — 
Oblations  to  the  Genii  there 
For  gentle  skies  and  breezes  fair ! 
The  nightingale  now  bends  her  flight 241 
From  the  high  trees,  where  all  the  night 

She  sung  so  sweet,  with  none  to  listen ; 
And  hides  her  from  the  morning  star 

Where  thickets  of  pomegranate  glisten 
In  the  clear  dawn, — bespangled  o'er 

With  dew,  whose  night  drops  would  not  stain 
The  best  and  brightest  scimitar 242 
That  ever  youthful  Sultan  wore 

On  the  first  morning  of  his  reign. 

And  see  —  the  Sun  himself !  —  on  wings 
Of  glory  up  the  East  he  springs. 
Angel  of  Light !  who  from  the  time 
Those  heavens  began  their  march  sublime, 
Hath  first  of  all  the  starry  choir 
Trod  in  his  Maker's  steps  of  fire  \ 


Where  are  the  days,  thou  wondrous  sphere, 
When  IRAX,  like  a  sun-flower,  turn'd 
To  meet  that  eye  where'er  it  burn'd  ?  — 

When,  from  the  banks  of  BENDEMEER 
To  the  nut-groves  of  SAMARCAND, 
Thy  temples  flam'd  o'er  all  the  land  ? 
Where  are  they  ?  ask  the  shades  of  them 

Who,  on  CADESSIA'S  248  bloody  plains, 
Saw  fierce  invaders  pluck  the  gem 
From  IRAN'S  broken  diadem, 

And  bind  her  ancient  faith  in  chains :  — 
Ask  the  poor  exile,  cast  alone 
On  foreign  shores,  unlov'd,  unknown, 
Beyond  the  Caspian's  Iron  Gates,244 

Or  on  the  snowy  Mossian  mountains, 
Far  from  his  beauteous  land  of  dates, 

Her  jasmine  bowers  and  sunny  fountains : 
Yet  happier  so  than  if  he  trod 
His  own  belov'd,  but  blighted,  sod, 
Beneath  a  despot  stranger's  nod  !  — 
Oh,  he  would  rather  houseless  roam 

Where  Freedom  and  his  Ciod  may  lead, 
Than  be  the  sleekest  slave  at  home 

That  crouches  to  the  conqueror's  creed  ! 
Is  IRAN'S  pride  then  gone  forever, 

Quench'd  with  the  flame  in  MITHRA'S  caves?  — 
N"  —  she  lias  sons,  that  never  —  never  — 

Will  stoop  to  be  the  Moslem's  slaves, 

While  heaven  has  light  or  earth  has  graves;  — 
Spirits  of  tin-,  that  brood  not  1<>";7, 
But  flash  resentment  back  for  wrong; 
And  hearts  where,  slow  but  deep,  the  seeds 
Of  vengeance  ripen  into  deeds. 
Till,  in  some  treacherous  hour  of  calm, 
They  burst,  like  ZKI  LAN'S  giant  palm,84* 

144    '  LALLA  ROOKH. 

Whose  buds  fly  open  with  a  sound 
That  shakes  the  pigmy  forests  round ! 

Yes,  EMIR  !  he,  who  scal'd  that  tower, 

And,  had  he  reach'd  thy  slumbering  breast, 
Had  taught  thee,  in  a  Gheber's  power 

How  safe  e'en  tyrant  heads  may  rest  — 
Is  one  of  many,  brave  as  he, 
Who  loathe  thy  haughty  race  and  thee ; 
Who,  though  they  know  the  strife  is  vain, 
Who,  though  they  know  the  riven  chain 
Snaps  but  to  enter  in  the  heart 
Of  him  who  rends  its  links  apart, 
Yet  dare  the  issue,  — blest  to  be 
E'en  for  one  bleeding  moment  free, 
And  die  in  pangs  of  liberty  ! 
Thou  know'st  them  well  —  'tis  some  moons  since 

Thy  turban'd  troops  and  blood-red  flags, 
Thou  satrap  of  a  bigot  Prince, 

Have  swarm'd  among  these  Green  Sea  crags ; 
Yet  here,  e'en  here,  a  sacred  band  — 
Ay,  in  the  portal  of  that  land 
Thou,  Arab,  dar'st  to  call  thy  own  — 
Their  spears  across  thy  path  have  thrown; 
Here — ere  the  winds  half  wing'd  thee  o'er  — 
Rebellion  brav'd  thee  from  the  shore. 

Rebellion !  foul,  dishonoring  word, 

Whose  wrongful  blight  so  oft  has  stain'd 
The  holiest  cause  that  tongue  or  sword 

Of  mortal  ever  lost  or  gain'd. 
How  many  a  spirit,  born  to  bless, 

Hath  sunk  beneath  that  withering  name, 
Whom  but  a  day's,  an  hour's  success 

Had  wafted  to  eternal  fame  ! 


As  exhalations,  when  they  burst 
From  the  warm  earth,  if  chill'd  at  first, 
If  check'd  in  soaring  from  the  plain, 
Darken  to  fogs  and  sink  again ;  — 
But,  if  they  once  triumphant  spread 
Their  wings  above  the  mountain-head, 
Become  enthroned  in  upper  air, 
And  turn  to  sun-bright  glories  there ! 

And  who  is  he,  that  wields  the  might 

Of  Freedom  on  the  Green  Sea  brink, 
Before  whose  sabre's  dazzling  light 246 

The  eyes  of  YEMEN'S  warriors  wink  ? 
Who  comes,  embower'd  in  the  spears 
Of  KERMAN'S  hardy  mountaineers  ?  — 
Those  mountaineers  that  truest,  last, 

Cling  to  their  country's  ancient  rites, 
As  if  that  God,  whose  eyelids  cast 

Their  closing  gleam  on  IRAN'S  heights, 
Among  her  snowy  mountains  threw 
The  last  light  of  his  worship  too ! 

'Tis  HA  FED  —  name  of  fear,  whose  sound 
Chills  like  the  muttering  of  a  charm  !  — 

Shout  but  that  awful  name  around, 
And  palsy  shakes  the  manliest  arm. 

'Tis  I IA FED,  most  accurs'd  and  dire 

(So  rrvnk'd  by  Moslem  hate  and  ire) 

Of  all  the  rebel  Sons  of  Fire  ; 

Of  whose  malign,  tremendous  power 

The  Arabs,  at  their  mid-watch  hour, 

Such  tales  of  fearful  wonder  tell, 

That  each  affrighted  sentinel 

Pulls  down  his  cowl  upon  his  eyes, 

Lest  HAKED  in  the  midst  should  rise  I 


A  man,  they  say,  of  monstrous  birth, 
A  mingled  race  of  flame  and  earth, 
Sprung  from  those  old,  enchanted  kings,247 

Who  in  their  fairy  helms,  of  yore, 
A  feather  from  the  mystic  wings 

Of  the  Simoorgh  resistless  wore ; 
And  gifted  by  the  Fiends  of  Fire, 
Who  groan'd  to  see  their  shrines  expire, 
With  charms  that,  all  in  vain  withstood, 
Would  drown  the  Koran's  light  in  blood  I 

Such  were  the  tales,  that  won  belief, 

And  such  the  coloring  Fancy  gave 
To  a  young,  warm,  and  dauntless  Chief,  — - 

One  who,  no  more  than  mortal  brave, 
Fought  for  the  land  his  soul  ador'd, 

For  happy  homes  and  altars  free,  — 
His  only  talisman,  the  sword, 

His  only  spell- word,  Liberty ! 
One  of  that  ancient  hero  line, 
Along  whose  glorious  current  shine 
Names,  that  have  sanctified  their  blood : 
As  LEBANON'S  small  mountain-flood 
Is  render'd  holy  by  the  ranks 
Of  sainted  cedars  on  its  banks.248 
'Twas  not  for  him  to  crouch  the  knee 
Tamely  to  Moslem  tyranny ; 
'Twas  not  for  him,  whose  soul  was  cast 
In  the  bright  mould  of  ages  past, 
Whose  melancholy  spirit,  fed 
With  all  the  glories  of  the  dead, 
Though  fram'd  for  IRAN'S  happiest  years, 
Was  born  among  her  chains  and  tears  !  — 
'Twas  not  for  him  to  swell  the  crowd 
Of  slavish  heads,  that  shrinking  bow'd 


Before  the  Moslem,  as  he  pass'd, 

Like  shrubs  beneath  the  poison-blast  — 

No  —  far  he  fled  —  indignant  fled 

The  pageant  of  his  country's  shame ; 
While  every  tear  her  children  shed 

Fell  on  his  soul  like  drops  of  flame ; 
And,  as  a  lover  hails  the  dawn 

Of  a  first  smile,  so  welcom'd  he 
The  sparkle  of  the  first  sword  drawn 

For  vengeance  and  for  liberty  ! 

But  vain  was  valor  —  vain  the  flower 
Of  KERMAN,  in  that  deathful  hour, 
Against  AL  HASSAN'S  whelming  power.  — 
In  vain  they  met  him,  helm  to  helm, 
Upon  the  threshold  of  that  realm 
He  came  in  bigot  pomp  to  sway, 
And  with  their  corpses  block'd  his  way  — 
In  vain  —  for  every  lance  they  rais'd, 
Thousands  around  the  conqueror  blaz'd ; 
For  every  arm  that  lin'd  their  shore, 
Myriads  of  slaves  were  wafted  o'er,  — 
A  bloody,  bold,  and  countless  crowd, 
Before  whose  swarm  as  fast  they  bow'd 
As  dates  beneath  the  locust  cloud. 

There  stood  —  but  one  short  league  away 
From  old  HARMOZIA'S  sultry  bay  — 
A  rocky  mountain,  o'er  the  Sea 
Of  OMAN  beetling  awfully  :"9 
A  last  and  solitary  link 

Of  those  stupendous  chains  that  reach 
From  the  broad  Caspian's  reedy  brink 

Down  winding  to  the  Green  Sea  beach. 
Around  its  base  the  bare  rocks  stood, 


Like  naked  giants  in  the  flood, 

As  if  to  guard  the  Gulf  across  ; 
While,  on  its  peak,  that  brav'd  the  sky, 
A  ruin'd  Temple  tower'd,  so  high 

That  oft  the  sleeping  albatross  26° 
Struck  the  wild  ruins  with  her  wing, 
And  from  her  cloud-rock'd  slumbering 
Started  —  to  find  man's  dwelling  there 
In  her  own  silent  fields  of  air  ! 
Beneath,  terrific  caverns  gave 
Dark  welcome  to  each  stormy  wave 
That  dash'd,  like  midnight  revellers,  in ;  — 
And  such  the  strange,  mysterious  din 
At  times  throughout  those  caverns  roll'd, 
And  such  the  fearful  wonders  told 
Of  restless  sprites  imprison'd  there, 
That  bold  were  Moslem,  who  would  dare, 
At  twilight  hour,  to  steer  his  skiff 
Beneath  the  Gheber's  lonely  cliff.251 

On  the  land  side,  those  towers  sublime, 
That  seem'd  above  the  grasp  of  Time, 
Were  sever' d  from  the  haunts  of  men 
By  a  wide,  deep,  and  wizard  glen, 
So  fathomless,  so  full  of  gloom, 

No  eye  could  pierce  the  void  between : 
It  seem'd  a  place  where  Gholes  might  come 
With  their  foul  banquets  from  the  tomb, 

And  in  its  caverns  feed  unseen. 
Like  distant  thunder,  from  below, 

The  sound  of  many  torrents  came, 
Too  deep  for  eye  or  ear  to  know 
If  'twere  the  sea's  imprison'd  flow, 

Or  floods  of  ever-restless  flame. 
For,  each  ravine,  each  rocky  spire 


Of  that  vast  mountain  stood  on  fire ; M2 

And,  though  forever  past  the  days 

When  God  was  worshipp'd  in  the  blaze 

That  from  its  lofty  altar  shone,  — 

Though  fled  the  priests,  the  votaries  gone, 

Still  did  the  mighty  flame  bum  on,-53 

Through  chance  and  change,  through  good  and  ill, 

Like  its  own  God's  eternal  will, 

Deep,  constant,  bright,  unquenchable  I 

Thither  the  vanquish'd  HAFED  led 

His  little  army's  last  remains  ;  — 
"  Welcome,  terrific  glen  !  "  he  said, 
"  Thy  gloom,  that  EBLIS'  self  might  dread, 

Is  Heaven  to  him  who  flies  from  chains  ! " 
O'er  a  dark,  narrow  bridge-way,  known 
To  him  and  to  his  Chiefs  alone, 
They  cross'd  the  chasm  and  gain'd  the  towers,  — 
"  This  home,"  he  cried,  "  at  least  is  ours  ;  — 
Here  we  may  bleed,  unmock'd  by  hymns 

Of  Moslem  triumph  o'er  our  head  ; 
Here  we  may  fall,  nor  leave  our  limbs 

To  quiver  to  the  Moslem's  tread. 
Stretch'd  on  this  rock  while  vultures'  beaks 
Are  whetted  on  our  yet  warm  cheeks, 
Here  — happy  that  no  tyrant's  eye 
Gloats  on  our  torments  —  we  may  die  !  "  — 

'Twas  night  when  to  those  towers  they  came, 

And  gloomily  the  fitful  flame, 

That  from  the  ruin'd  altar  broke, 

Glar'd  on  his  features,  as  he  spoke  :  — 

"  'Tis  o'er  —  what  men  could  do,  we've  done  — 

If  I  KAN  will  look  tamely  on, 

And  see  her  priests,  her  warriors  driven 

150  LALLA  1100KU. 

Before  a  sensual  bigot's  nod, 
A  wretch,  who  shrines  his  lusts  in  heaven, 

And  makes  a  pander  of  his  God  ; 
If  her  proud  sons,  her  high-born  souls, 

Men,  in  whose  veins  —  oh  last  disgrace  ! 
The  blood  of  ZAL  and  KusTAM264  rolls,— 

If  they  will  court  this  upstart  race, 
And  turn  from  MITHRA'S  ancient  ray, 
To  kneel  at  shrines  of  yesterday  £ 
If  they  will  crouch  to  IRAN'S  foes, 

Why,  let  them  —  till  the  land's  despair 
Cries  out  to  Heaven,  and  bondage  grows 

Too  vile  for  e'en  the  vile  to  bear ! 
Till  shame  at  last,  long  hidden,  burns 
Their  inmost  core,  and  conscience  turns 
Each  coward  tear  the  slave  lets  fall 
Back  on  his  heart  in  drops  of  gall. 
But  here,  at  least,  our  arms  unchain'd, 
And  souls  that  thraldom  never  stain'd ;  — 

This  spot,  at  least,  no  foot  of  slave 
Or  satrap  ever  yet  profan'd ; 

And  though  but  few  —  though  fast  the  wave 
Of  life  is  ebbing  from  our  veins, 
Enough  for  vengeance  still  remains. 
As  panthers,  after  set  of  sun, 
Rush  from  the  roots  of  LEBANON 
Across  the  dark  sea  robber's  way,265 
"We'll  bound  upon  our  startled  prey ; 
And  when  some  hearts  that  proudest  swell 
Have  felt  our  falchion's  last  farewell ; 
When  Hope's  expiring  throb  is  o'er, 
And  e'en  despair  can  prompt  no  more, 
This  spot  shall  be  the  sacred  grave 
Of  the  last  few  who,  vainly  brave, 
Die  for  the  land  they  cannot  save  I n 


His  Chiefs  stood  round  — each  shining  blade 

Upon  the  broken  altar  laid  — 

And  though  so  wild  and  desolate 

Those  courts,  where  once  the  Mighty  sate ; 

No  longer  on  those  mouldering  towers 

Was  seen  the  feast  of  fruits  and  flowers, 

With  which  of  old  the  Magi  fed 

The  wandering  Spirits  of  their  Dead ; 258 

Though  neither  priest  nor  rites  were  there, 

Nor  charmed  leaf  of  pure  pomegranate ; 2M 
Nor  hymn,  nor  censer's  fragrant  air, 

Nor  symbol  of  their  worshipp'd  planet;26' 
Yet  the  same  God  that  heard  their  sires 
Heard  them,  while  on  that  altar's  fires 
They  swore  269  the  latest,  holiest  deed 
Of  the  few  hearts,  still  left  to  bleed, 
Should  be,  in  IRAN'S  injur'd  name, 
To  die  upon  that  Mount  of  Flame  — 
The  last  of  all  her  patriot  line, 
Before  her  last  untrampled  Shrine  ! 

Brave,  suffering  souls  !  they  little  knew 
How  many  a  tear  their  injuries  drew 
From  one  weak  maid,  one  gentle  foe, 
Whom  love  first  touch'd  with  otners'  woe  — * 
Whose  life,  as  free  from  thought  as  sin, 
Slept  like  a  lake,  till  Love  threw  in 
His  talisman,  and  woke  the  tide, 
And  spread  its  trembling  circles  wide. 
Once,  EMIR!  thy  unheeding  child, 
'Mid  all  this  havoc,  bloom'd  and  smil'd  — 
Tranquil  as  on  some  battle  pluin 

The  Persian  lily  shines  and  towers,290 
Hefore,  the.  combat's  reddening  slain 

Hath  fall'ii  upon  her  golden  Howers. 

152  LALLA 

Light-hearted  maid,  unaw'd,  immov'd, 
While  Heaven  but  spar'd  the  sire  she  lov'd, 
Once  at  thy  evening  tales  of  blood 
Unlistening  and  aloof  she  stood  — 
And  oft,  when  thou  hast  pac'd  along 

Thy  Haram  halls  with  furious  heat, 
Hast  thou  not  curs'd  her  cheerful  song, 

That  came  across  thee,  calm  and  sweet, 
Like  lutes  of  angels,  touch'd  so  near 
Hell's  confines,  that  the  damn'd  can  hear ! 

Far  other  feelings  Love  hath  brought  — 

Her  soul  all  flame,  her  brow  all  sadness, 
She  now  has  but  the  one  dear  thought, 

And  thinks  that  o'er,  almost  to  madness ! 
Oft  does  her  sinking  heart  recall 
His  words  —  "  For  my  sake  weep  for  all ;  " 
And  bitterly,  as  day  on  day 

Of  rebel  carnage  fast  succeeds, 
She  weeps  a  lover  snatch'd  away 

In  every  Gheber  wretch  that  bleeds. 
There's  not  a  sabre  meets  her  eye, 

But  with  his  life-blood  seems  to  swim ; 
There's  not  an  arrow  wings  the  sky, 

But  fancy  turns  its  point  to  him. 
No  more  she  brings  with  footstep  light 

AL  HASSAN'S  falchion  for  the  fight ; 
And  —  had  he  look'd  with  clearer  sight, 
Had  not  the  mists,  that  ever  rise 
From  a  foul  spirit,  dimm'd  his  eyes  — 
He  would  have  mark'd  her  shuddering  frame, 
When  from  the  field  of  blood  he  came, 
The  faltering  speech  —  the  look  estrang'd  — 
Voice,  step,  and  life,  and  beauty  chang'd  — 


He  would  have  mark'd  all  this,  and  known 
Such  change  is  wrought  by  Love  alone  ! 

Ah !  not  the  Love,  that  should  have  bless'd 
So  young,  so  innocent  a  breast ; 
Not  the  pure,  open,  prosperous  Love, 
That  pledg'd  on  earth  and  seal'd  above, 
Grows  in  the  world's  approving  eyes, 

In  friendship's  smile  and  home's  caress, 
Collecting  all  the  heart's  sweet  ties 

Into  one  knot  of  happiness ! 
No,  HINDA,  no,  — thy  fatal  flame 
Is  nurs'd  in  silence,  sorrow,  shame ;  — 

A  passion,  without  hope  or  pleasure, 
In  thy  soul's  darkness  buried  deep, 

It  lies,  like  some  ill-gotten  treasure,  — 
Some  idol,  without  shrine  or  name, 
O'er  which  its  pale-eyed  votaries  keep 
Unholy  watch,  while  others  sleep. 

Seven  nights  have  darken'd  OMAN'S  sea, 
Since  last,  beneath  the  moonlight  ray, 

She  saw  his  light  oar  rapidly 

Hurry  her  Gheber's  bark  away,  — 

And  still  she  goes,  at  midnight  hour, 

To  weep  alone  in  that  high  bower, 

And  watch,  and  look  along  the  deep 

For  him  whose  smiles  first  made  her  weep;  — 

lint  watching,  weeping,  all  was  vain, 

She  never  saw  his  bark  again. 

The  owlet's  solitary  cry, 

The  night-hawk  flitting  darkly  by, 
And  oft  the  hateful  carrion  bird, 

Heavily  flapping  his  clogg'd  wing, 


Which  reek'd  with  that  day's  banqueting  — 
Was  all  she  saw,  was  all  she  heard. 

'Tis  the  eighth  morn  —  AL  HASSAN'S  brow 

Is  brighten'd  with  unusual  joy  — 
What  mighty  mischief  glads  him  now, 

Who  never  smiles  but  to  destroy  ? 
The  sparkle  upon  HERKEND'S  Sea, 
When  toss'd  at  midnight  furiously,261 
Tells  not  of  wreck  and  ruin  nigh, 
More  surely  than  that  smiling  eye  ! 
"  Up,  daughter,  up  —  the  KERNA'S  262  breath 
Has  blown  a  blast  would  waken  death, 
And  yet  thou  sleep'st  —  up,  child,  and  see 
This  blessed  day  for  Heaven  and  me, 
A  day  more  rich  in  Pagan  blood 
Than  ever  flash'd  o'er  OMAN'S  flood. 
Before  another  dawn  shall  shine, 
His  head  —  heart  — limbs  —  will  all  be  mine ; 
This  very  night  his  blood  shall  steep 
These  hands  all  over  ere  I  sleep ! " 
"  His  blood  ! "  she  faintly  scream'd  —  her  mind 
Still  singling  one  from  all  mankind  — 
"  Yes  —  spite  of  his  ravines  and  towers, 
HAFED,  my  child,  this  night  is  ours. 
Thanks  to  all-conquering  treachery, 

Without  whose  aid  the  links  accurst, 
That  bind  these  impious  slaves,  would  be 

Too  strong  for  ALLA'S  self  to  burst ! 
That  rebel  fiend,  whose  blade  has  spread 
My  path  with  piles  of  Moslem  dead, 
Whose  baffling  spells  had  almost  driven 
Back  from  their  course  the  Swords  of  Heaven, 
This  night,  with  all  his  band,  shall  know 
How  deep  an  Arab's  steel  can  go, 


When  God  and  Vengeance  speed  the  blow. 
And  —  Prophet !  by  that  holy  wreath 
Thou  wor'st  on  OHOD'S  field  of  death,268 
I  swear,  for  every  sob  that  parts 
In  anguish  from  these  heathen  hearts, 
A  gem  from  PERSIA'S  plunder'd  mines 
Shall  glitter  on  thy  Shrine  of  Shrines. 
But,  ha !  —  she  sinks  —  that  look  so  wild  — 
Those  livid  lips — my  child,  my  child, 
This  life  of  blood  befits  not  thee, 
And  thou  must  back  to  ARABY. 

Ne'er  had  I  risk'd  thy  timid  sex 
In  scenes  that  man  himself  might  dread, 
Had  I  not  hop'd  our  every  tread 

Would  be  on  prostrate  Persian  necks  — 
Curst  race,  they  offer  swords  instead  ! 
But,  cheer  thee,  maid,  —  the  wind  that  now 
Is  blowing  o'er  thy  feverish  brow, 
To-day  shall  waft  thee  from  the  shore ; 
And,  ere  a  drop  of  this  night's  gore 
Have  time  to  chill  in  yonder  towers, 
Thou'lt  see  thy  own  sweet  Arab  bowers ! " 

His  bloody  boast  was  all  too  true ; 
There  lurk'd  one  wretch  among  the  few 
Whom  HAFKD'S  eagle  eye  could  count 
Around  him  on  that  fiery  mount, — 
One  miscreant  who  for  gold  betray'd 
The  pathway  through  the  valley's  shade 
To  those  high  towers  whore  Freedom  stood 
In  her  last  hold  of  flame  and  blood. 
Left  on  the  field  last  dreadful  night. 
When,  sallying  from  their  Sacred  height, 
The  (Jhebers  fouirht  hope's  farewell  tight, 
He  lay  — but  died  not  with  the  brave; 


That  sun,  which  should  have  gilt  his  grave, 

Saw  him  a  traitor  and  a  slave  ;  — 

And,  while  the  few,  who  thence  return'd 

To  their  high  rocky  fortress,  mourn'd 

For  him  among  the  matchless  dead 

They  left  behind  on  glory's  bed, 

He  liv'd,  and,  in  the  face  of  morn, 

Laugh'd  them  and  Faith  and  Heaven  to  scorn. 

Oh  for  a  tongue  to  curse  the  slave, 

Whose  treason,  like  a  deadly  blight, 
Comes  o'er  the  councils  of  the  brave, 

And  blasts  them  in  their  hour  of  might ! 
May  Life's  unblessed  cup  for  him 
Be  drugg'd  with  treacheries  to  the  brim,  — 
With  hopes,  that  but  allure  to  fly, 

With  joys,  that  vanish  while  he  sips, 
Like  Dead  Sea  fruits,  that  tempt  the  eye, 

But  turn  to  ashes  on  the  lips  ! 264 
His  country's  curse,  his  children's  shame, 
Outcast  of  virtue,  peace,  and  fame, 
May  he,  at  last,  with  lips  of  flame 
On  the  parch'd  desert  thirsting  die,  — 
While  lakes  that  shone  in  mockery  nigh, *** 
Are  fading  off,  untouch'd,  untasted, 
Like  the  once  glorious  hopes  he  blasted  ! 
And,  when  from  earth  his  spirit  flies, 

Just  Prophet,  let  the  damn'd  one  dwell 
Full  in  the  sight  of  Paradise, 

Beholding  heaven,  and  feeling  hell ! 


LALLA  KOOKH  had,  the  night  before,  been  visited  by  a 
dream  which,  in  spite  of  the  impending  fate  of  poor 
H.v FED,  made  her  heart  more  than  usually  cheerful  dur- 
ing the  morning,  and  gave  her  cheeks  all  the  freshened 
animation  of  a  flower  that  the  Bid-musk  had  just  passed 
over. 266  She  fancied  that  she  was  sailing  on  that  Eastern 
Ocean,  where  the  sea-gipsies,  who  live  forever  on  the 
water,267  enjoy  a  perpetual  summer  in  wandering  from 
isle  to  isle,  when  she  saw  a  small  gilded  bark  approach- 
ing her.  It  was  like  one  of  those  boats  which  the  Mal- 
divian  islanders  send  adrift  at  the  mercy  of  Avinds 
and  waves,  loaded  Avith  perfumes,  flowers,  and  odorifer- 
ous wood,  as  an  offering  to  the  Spirit  \vhom  they  call 
King  of  the  Sea.  At  first,  this  little  bark  appeared  to  be 
empty,  but,  on  coming  nearer  — 

She  had  proceeded  thus  far  in  relating  the  dream  to 
her  Ladies,  when  FKRAMOKZ  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
pavilion.  In  his  presence,  of  course,  everything  else 
was  forgotten,  and  the  continuance  of  the  story  Avas  in- 
stantly requested  by  all.  Fresh  wood  of  aloes  was  set  to 
burn  in  the  cassolets;  the  violet  sherbets268  were  hastily 
handed  round,  and  after  a  short  prelude  on  his  lute,  in 
the  pathetic  measure  of  Xava, >Jfl9  which  is  always  used 
to  express  the  lamentations  of  absent  lovers,  the  Poet 
thus  continued:  — 


THE  day  is  lowering  —  stilly  black 
Sleeps  the  grim  wave,  while  heaven's  rack, 
Dispers'd  and  wild,  'twixt  earth  and  sky 
Hangs  like  a  shatter'd  canopy. 
There's  not  a  cloud  in  that  blue  plain 

But  tells  of  storm  to  come  or  past ;  — 
Here,  flying  loosely  as  the  mane 

Of  a  young  war-horse  in  the  blast ;  — 
There  roll'd  in  masses  dark  and  swelling, 
As  proud  to  be  the  thunder's  dwelling  ! 
While  some  already  burst  and  riven, 
Seem  melting  down  the  verge  of  heaven ; 
As  though  the  infant  storm  had  rent 

The  mighty  womb  that  gave  him  birth, 
And,  having  swept  the  firmament, 

Was  now  in  fierce  career  for  earth. 
On  earth  'twas  yet  all  calm  around, 
A  pulseless  silence,  dread,  profound, 
More  awful  than  the  tempest's  sound. 
The  diver  steer'd  for  ORMUS'  bowers, 
And  moor'd  his  skiff  till  calmer  hours ; 
The  sea-birds,  with  portentous  screech, 
Flew  fast  to  land ;  —  upon  the  beach 
The  pilot  oft  had  paus'd,  with  glance 
Turn'd  upward  to  that  wild  expanse  ;  — 
And  all  was  boding,  drear,  and  dark 
As  her  own  soul,  when  HINDA'S  bark 
Went  slowly  from  the  Persian  shore.  — 
No  music  tim'd  her  parting  oar,270 
Nor  friends  upon  the  lessening  strand 
Linger' d,  to  wave  the  unseen  hand, 
Or  speak  the  farewell,  heard  no  more  ;  — 


But  lone,  unheeded,  from  the  bay 
The  vessel  takes  its  mournful  way, 
Like  some  ill-destin'd  bark  that  steers 
In  silence  through  the  Gate  of  Tears.271 
And  where  was  stern  AL  HASSAN  then  ? 
Could  not  that  saintly  scourge  of  men 
From  bloodshed  and  devotion  spare 
One  minute  for  a  farewell  there  ? 
No  —  close  within,  in  changeful  fits 
Of  cursing  and  of  prayer,  he  sits 
In  savage  loneliness  to  brood 
Upon  the  coming  night  of  blood,  — 

With  that  keen  second-scent  of  death, 
By  which  the  vulture  snuffs  his  food 

In  the  still  warm  and  living  breath ! 272 
While  o'er  the  wave  his  Aveeping  daughter 
Is  wafted  from  these  scenes  of  slaughter,  — 
As  a  young  bird  of  BABYLOx,278 
Let  loose  to  tell  of  victory  won, 
Flies  home,  with  wing,  ah  !  not  unstain'd 
By  the  red  hands  that  held  her  chain'd. 

And  does  the  long-left  home  she  seeks 

Light  up  no  gladness  on  her  checks  ? 

The  flowers  she  nurs'd — the  well-known  groves, 

Where  oft  in  dreams  her  spirit  roves  — 

Once  more  Co  see  her  dear  gazelles 

Come  bounding  with  their  silver  bells  ; 

Her  birds'  new  plumage  to  Ix-hold, 

And  the  gay,  gleaming  fishes  conr  % 
She  left,  all  filleted  with  gold. 

Shooting  around  their  jasper  fount,  ** 
Her  little  garden  mosque  to  see, 

And  once  again,  at  evening  hour, 
To  tell  her  ruby  rosary*7* 

160  LALLA   ROOEH. 

In  her  own  sweet  acacia  bower.  — 
Can  these  delights,  that  wait  her  now, 
Call  up  no  sunshine  on  her  brow  ? 
No,  —  silent,  from  her  train  apart,  — 
As  if  e'en  now  she  felt  at  heart 
The  chill  of  her  approaching  doom,  — 
She  sits,  all  lovely  in  her  gloom 
As  a  pale  Angel  of  the  Grave ; 
And  o'er  the  wide,  tempestuous  wave, 
Looks,  with  a  shudder,  to  those  towers, 
Where,  in  a  few  short  awful  hours, 
Blood,  blood,  in  streaming  tides  shall  run, 
Foul  incense  for  to-morrow's  sun ! 
"  Where  art  thou,  glorious  stranger !  thou, 
So  loved,  so  lost,  where  art  thou  now  ? 
Foe  —  Gheber  —  infidel  —  whate'er 
The  unhallow'd  name  thou'rt  doom'd  to  bear, 
Still  glorious  —  still  to  this  fond  heart 
Dear  as  its  blood,  whate'er  thou  art ! 
Yes  —  ALLA,  dreadful  ALLA  !  yes  — 
If  there  be  wrong,  be  crime  in  this, 
Let  the  black  waves  that  round  us  roll, 
Whelm  me  this  instant,  ere  my  soul, 
Forgetting  faith — home  —  father  —  all  — 
"Before  its  earthly  idol  fall, 
NOT  worship  e'en  Thyself  above  him  — 
For,  oh,  so  wildly  do  I  love  him, 
Thy  Paradise  itself  were  dim 
And  joyless,  if  not  shared  with  him !  " 

Her  hands  were  clasp'd  —  her  eyes  upturn'd, 
Dropping  their  tears  like  moonlight  rain ; 

And,  though  her  lip,  fond  raver  !  burn'd 
With  words  of  passion,  bold,  profane, 

Yet  was  there  light  around  her  brow, 


A  holiness  in  those  dark  eyes, 
Which  show'd,  though  wandering  earthward  now, 

Her  spirit's  home  was  in  the  skies. 
Yes  —  for  a  spirit  pure  as  hers 
Is  always  pure,  e'en  while  it  errs; 
As  sunshine,  broken  in  the  rill, 
Though  turn'd  astray,  is  sunshine  still  I 

So  wholly  had  her  mind  forgot 

All  thoughts  but  one,  she  heeded  not 

The  rising  storm  —  the  wave  that  cast 

A  moment's  midnight,  as  it  pass'd  — 

Nor  heard  the  frequent  shout,  the  tread 

Of  gathering  tumult  o'er  her  head  — 

Clash'd   swords,   and  tongues   that   seem'd   to 


With  the  rude  riot  of  the  sky.  — 
But,  hark !  —  that  war-whoop  on  the  deck  — 

That  crash,  as  if  each  engine  there, 
Masts,  sails,  and  all,  were  gone  to  wreck, 

'Mid  yells  and  stampings  of  despair ! 
Merciful  Heaven  !  what  can  it  be  ? 
'Tis  not  the  storm,  though  fearfully 
The  ship  has  shudder'd  as  she  rode 
O'er  mountain-waves  —  "  Forgive  me,  God ! 
Forgive  me  !"  —shrieked  the  maid,  and  knelt, 
Trembling  all  over  —  for  she  felt 
As  if  her  judgment  hour  was  near, 
While  crouching  round,  half  dead  witli  fear, 
Her  handmaids  clung,  nor  breath'd,  nor  stirr'd— • 
When,  hark  !  —  a  second  crash  — a  third  — 
And  now,  as  if  a  bolt  of  thunder 
Had  riv'n  the  laboring  planks  asunder, 
The  deck  falls  in  —  what  horrors  then  ! 
Blood,  waves,  and  tackle,  swords  and  men 


Come  mix'd  together  through  the  chasm,— 
Some  wretches  in  their  dying  spasm 
Still  fighting  on  —  and  some  that  call 
"  For  GOD  and  IRAN  !  "  as  they  fall ! 

Whose  was  the  hand  that  turn'd  away 

The  perils  of  the  infuriate  fray, 

And  snatch'd  her  breathless  from  beneath 

This  wilderment  of  wreck  and  death  ? 

She  knew  not  —  for  a  faintness  came 

Chill  o'er  her,  and  her  sinking  frame 

Amid  the  ruins  of  that  hour 

Lay,  like  a  pale  and  scorched  flower, 

Beneath  the  red  volcano's  shower. 

But,  oh !  the  sights  and  sounds  of  dread 

That  shock'd  her  ere  her  senses  fled ! 

The  yawning  deck  —  the  crowd  that  strove 

Upon  the  tottering  planks  above  — 

The  sail,  whose  fragments,  shivering  o'er 

The  stragglers'  heads  all  dash'd  with  gore, 

Flutter'd  like  bloody  flags  —  the  clash 

Of  sabres,  and  the  lightning's  flash 

Upon  their  blades,  high  toss'd  about 

Like  meteor  brands 276  —  as  if  throughout 

The  elements  one  fury  ran, 
One  general  rage,  that  left  a  doubt 

Which  was  the  fiercer,  Heaven  or  Man ! 

Once  too  —  but  no  —  it  could  not  be  — 
'Twas  fancy  all  —  yet  once  she  thought 

While  yet  her  fading  eyes  could  see, 
High  on  the  ruin'd  deck  she  caught 

A  glimpse  of  that  unearthly  form, 
That  glory  of  her  soul,  —  e'en  then, 

Amid  the  whirl  of  wreck  and  storm, 


Shining  above  his  fellow-men, 
As,  on  some  black  and  troublous  night, 
The  Star  of  EGYPT,277  whose  proud  light 
Never  hath  beam'd  on  those  who  rest 
In  the  White  Islands  of  the  West,278 
Burns  through  the  storm  with  looks  of  flame 
That  put  Heaven's  cloudier  eyes  to  shame. 
But  no  —  'twas  but  the  minute's  dream  — 
A  fantasy  —  and  ere  the  scream 
Had  half-way  pass'd  her  pallid  lips, 
A  death-like  swoon,  a  chill  eclipse 
Of  soul  and  sense  its  darkness  spread 
Around  her,  and  she  sunk,  as  dead. 

How  calm,  how  beautiful  comes  on 

The  stilly  hour,  when  storms  are  gone ; 

When  warring  winds  have  died  away, 

And  clouds,  beneath  the  glancing  ray, 

Melt  off,  and  leave  the  land  and  sea 

Sleeping  in  bright  tranquillity,  — 

Fresh  as  if  Day  again  were  born, 

Again  upon  the  lap  of  Morn  !  — 

When  the  light  blossoms,  rudely  torn 

And  scatter'd  at  the  whirlwind's  will, 

Hang  floating  in  the  pure  air  still, 

Filling  it  all  with  precious  balm, 

In  gratitude  for  this  sweet  calm;  — 

And  every  drop  the  thunder-showers 

Have  left  upon  the  grass  and  flowers 

Sparkles,  as  'twere  that  lightning-gem  27> 

Whose  liquid  flame  is  born  of  them  ! 

When,  'stead  of  one  unchanging  breeze, 
There  blow  a  thousand  gentle  airs, 
And  each  a  different  perfume  bears,— 

As  if  the  loveliest  plants  and  trees 

164  LALLA   ROOKH. 

Had  vassal  breezes  of  their  own 
To  watch  and  wait  on  them  alone, 

And  waft  no  other  breath  than  theirs : 
When  the  blue  waters  rise  and  fall, 
In  sleepy  sunshine  mantling  all ; 
And  e'en  that  swell  the  tempest  leaves 
Is  like  the  full  and  silent  heaves 
Of  lovers'  hearts,  when  newly  blest, 
Too  newly  to  be  quite  at  rest. 

Such  was  the  golden  hour  that  broke 

Upon  the  world,  when  HINDA  woke 

From  her  long  trance,  and  heard  around 

No  motion  but  the  water's  sound 

Rippling  against  the  vessel's  side, 

As  slow  it  mounted  o'er  the  tide.  — 

But  where  is  she  ?  —  her  eyes  are  dark, 

Are  wilder'd  still  —  is  this  the  bark, 

The  same,  that  from  HARMOZIA'S  bay 

Bore  her  at  morn  —  whose  bloody  way 

The  sea-dog  track'd  ?  — no  —  strange  and  new 

Is  all  that  meets  her  wondering  view. 

Upon  a  galliot's  deck  she  lies, 

Beneath  no  rich  pavilion's  shade,  — 
No  plumes  to  fan  her  sleeping  eyes, 

Nor  jasmine  on  her  pillow  laid. 
But  the  rude  litter,  roughly  spread 
With  war-cloaks,  is  her  homely  bed, 
And  shaAvl  and  sash,  on  javelins  hung, 
For  awning  o'er  her  head  are  flung, 
Shuddering  she  look'd  around  —  there  lay 

A  group  of  warriors  in  the  sun, 
Resting  their  limbs,  as  for  that  day 

Their  ministry  of  death  were  done. 
Some  gazing  on  the  drowsy  sea. 


Lost  in  unconscious  reverie ; 
And  some,  who  seein'd  but  ill  to  brook 
That  sluggish  calm,  with  many  a  look 
To  the  slack  sail  impatient  cast, 
As  loose  it  flagg'd  around  the  mast. 

Blest  ALLA  !   who  shall  save  her  now  ? 

There's  not  in  all  that  warrior  band 
One  Arab  sword,  one  turbau'd  brow 

From  her  own  Faithful  Moslem  land. 
Their  garb  —  the  leathern  belt  28°  that  wraps 

Each  yellow  vest 281  —  that  rebel  hue  — 
The  Tartar  fleece  upon  their  caps 282  — 

Yes  —  yes  —  her  fears  are  all  too  true, 
And  Heaven  hath,  in  this  dreadful  hour, 
Abandon'd  her  to  HAFED'S  power ;  — 
HAFED,  the  Gheber !  —  at  the  thought 

Her  very  heart's  blood  chills  within ; 
He,  whom  her  soul  was  hourly  taught 

To  loathe,  as  some  foul  fiend  of  sin, 
Some  minister,  whom  Hell  had  sent 
To  spread  its  blast,  where'er  he  went, 
And  fling,  as  o'er  our  earth  he  trod, 
His  shadow  betwixt  man  and  God! 
And  she  is  now  his  captive,  —  thrown 
In  his  fierce  hands,  alive,  alone ; 
His  the  infuriate  band  she  sees, 
All  infidels  —  all  enemies! 
What  was  the  daring  hope  that  then 
Cross'd  her  like  lightning,  as  again, 
With  boldness  that  despair  had  lent, 

She  darted  through  that  armed  crowd 
A  look  HO  searching,  so  intent, 

That  e'en  tin;  sternest  warrior  bow'd 
Abash'd,  when  lie  h<  r  glances  caught, 


As  if  he  guess'd  whose  form  they  sought  ? 
But  no  —  she  sees  him  not  —  'tis  gone, 
The  vision  that  before  her  shone. 
Through  all  the  maze  of  blood  and  storm, 
Is  tied  —  'twas  but  a  phantom  form  — 
One  of  those  passing,  rainbow  dreams, 
Half  light,  half  shade,  which  Fancy's  beams 
Paint  on  the  fleeting  mists  that  roll 
In  trance  or  slumber  round  the  soul. 

But  now  the  bark,  with  livelier  bound, 

Scales  the  blue  wave  —  the  crew's  in  motion. 

The  oars  are  out,  and  with  light  sound 
Break  the  bright  mirror  of  the  ocean, 

Scattering  its  brilliant  fragments  round. 

And  now  she  sees  —  with  horror  sees, 

Their  course  is  tow'rd  that  mountain-hold,  — 

Those  towers,  that  make  her  life-blood  freeze, 

Where  MECCA'S  godless  enemies 

Lie,  like  beleaguer'd  scorpions,  roll'd 
In  their  last  deadly,  venomous  fold ! 

Amid  the  illumin'd  land  and  flood 

Sunless  that  mighty  mountain  stood ; 

Save  where,  above  its  awfiil  head, 

There  shone  a  flaming  cloud,  blood-red, 

As  'twere  the  flag  of  destiny 

Hung  out  to  mark  where  death  would  be ! 

Had  her  bewilder'd  mind  the  power 
Of  thought  in  this  terrific  hour, 
She  well  might  marvel  where  or  how 
Man's  foot  could  scale  that  mountain's  brow, 
Since  ne'er  had  Arab  heard  or  known 
Of  path  but  through  the  glen  alone.  — 
But  every  thought  was  lost  in  fear, 


When,  as  their  bounding  bark  drew  near 

The  craggy  base,  she  felt  the  waves 

Hurry  them  tow'rd  those  dismal  caves, 

That  from  the  Deep  in  windings  pass 

Beneath  that  Mount's  volcanic  mass ;  — 

And  loud  a  voice  on  deck  commands 

To  lower  the  mast  and  light  the  brands !  — 

Instantly  o'er  the  dashing  tide 

Within  a  cavern's  mouth  they  glide, 

Gloomy  as  that  eternal  Porch 

Through  which  departed  spirits  go :  — 

Not  e'en  the  flare  of  brand  and  torch 
Its  flickering  light  could  further  throw 
Than  the  thick  flood  that  boil'd  below. 

Silent  they  floated  —  as  if  each 

Sat  breathless,  and  too  aw'd  for  speech 

In  that  dark  chasm,  where  even  sound 

Seem'd  dark,  —  so  sullenly  around 

The  goblin  echoes  of  the  cave 

Mutter'd  it  o'er  the  long  black  wave, 

As  'twere  some  secret  of  the  grave  ! 

But  soft  —  they  pause  —  the  current  turns 
Beneath  them  from  its  onward  track  ;  — 

Some  mighty,  unseen  barrier  spurns 
The  vexed  tide,  all  foaming,  back, 

And  scarce  the  oars'  redoubled  force 

Can  stem  the  eddy's  whirling  force; 

When,  hark  !  —  some  desperate  foot  has  spnmg 

Among  the  rocks  —  the  chain  is  flung  — 

The  oars  are  up  —  the  grapple  clings, 

And  tin1  toss'd  bark  in  moorings  swings. 

Just  then,  a  day -beam  through  the  shade 

Broke  tremulous  —  but,  ere  the  maid 

Can  see  from  whence  the  brightness  steals, 

1(38  LALLA   EOOKH. 

Upon  her  brow  she  shuddering  feels 
A  viewless  hand,  that  promptly  ties 
A  bandage  round  her  burning  eyes ; 
"While  the  rude  litter  where  she  lies, 
Uplifted  by  the  warrior  throng, 
O'er  the  steep  rocks  is  borne  along. 

Blest  power  of  sunshine  !  —  genial  Day, 
What  balm,  what  life  is  in  thy  ray  ! 
To  feel  thee  is  such  real  bliss, 
That  had  the  world  no  joy  but  this, 
To  sit  in  sunshine  calm  and  sweet,  — 
It  were  a  world  too  exquisite 
For  man  to  leave  it  for  the  gloom, 
The  deep,  cold  shadow  of  the  tomb. 
E'en  HINDA,  though  she  saw  not  where 

Or  whither  wound  the  perilous  road, 
Yet  knew  by  that  awakening  air, 

Which  suddenly  around  her  glow'd, 
That  they  had  risen  from  darkness  then, 
And  breath'd  the  sunny  world  again  ! 
But  soon  this  balmy  freshness  fled  — 
For  now  the  steepy  labyrinth  led 
Through  damp  and  gloom  —  'mid  crash  of  boughs, 
And  fall  of  loosen'd  crags  that  rouse 
The  leopard  from  his  hungry  sleep, 

Who,  starting,  thinks  each  crag  a  prey, 
And  long  is  heard,  from  steep  to  steep, 

Chasing  them  down  their  thundering  way ! 
The  jackal's  cry  —  the  distant  moan 
Of  the  hyaena,  fierce  and  lone  — 
And  that  eternal  saddening  sound 

Of  torrents  in  the  glen  beneath, 
As  'twere  the  ever-dark  Profound 

That  rolls  beneath  the  Bridge  of  Death ! 


All,  all  is  fearful — e'en  to  see, 

To  gaze  on  those  terrific  things 
She  now  but  blindly  hears,  would  be 

Relief  to  her  imaginings ; 
Since  never  yet  was  shape  so  dread, 

But  Fancy,  thus  in  darkness  thrown 
And  by  such  sounds  of  horror  fed, 

Could  frame  more  dreadful  of  her  own. 

But  does  she  dream  ?  has  Fear  again 
Perplex'd  the  workings  of  her  brain, 
Or  did  a  voice,  all  music,  then 
Come  from  the  gloom,  low  whispering  near  — 
"  Tremble  not,  love,  thy  Gheber's  here  ! " 
She  does  not  dream  —  all  sense,  all  ear, 
She  drinks  the  words,  "Thy  Gheber's  here." 
'Twas  his  own  voice  —  she  could  not  err  — 

Throughout  the  breathing  world's  extent 
There  was  but  one  such  voice  for  her, 

So  kind,  so  soft,  so  eloquent ! 
Oh,  sooner  shall  the  rose  of  May 

Mistake  her  own  sweet  nightingale, 
And  to  some  meaner  minstrel's  lay 

Open  her  bosom's  glowing  veil,288 
Than  Love  shall  ever  doubt  a  tone, 
A  breath  of  the  beloved  one  ! 

Though  blest,  'mid  all  her  ills,  to  think 

She  has  that  one  beloved  near, 
Whose  smile,  though  met  on  ruin's  brink, 

Hath  power  to  make  eVri  ruin  dear,  — 
Yet  soon  this  gleam  of  rapture,  crost 
By  fears  for  him,  is  chill'd  and  lost. 
How  shall  the  ruthless  HAKKII  brook 
That  one  of  Gheber  blood  .should  look, 


With  auglit  but  curses  in  his  eye, 

On  her  —  a  maid  of  ARABY  — 

A  Moslem  maid  —  the  child  of  him, 

Whose  bloody  banner's  dire  success 
Hath  left  their  altars  cold  and  dim, 

And  their  fair  land  a  wilderness  ! 
And,  worse  than  all,  that  night  of  blood 

Which  comes  so  fast  —  oh  !  who  shall  stay 
The  sword,  that  once  hath  tasted  food 

Of  Persian  hearts,  or  turn  its  way  ? 
What  arm  shall  then  the  victim  cover, 
Or  from  her  father  shield  her  lover  ? 

"  Save  him,  my  God  !  "  she  inly  cries  — 
"  Save  him  this  night  —  and  if  thine  eyes 

Have  ever  welcom'd  with  delight 
The  sinner's  tears,  the  sacrifice 
Of  sinners'  hearts  —  guard  him  this  night, 
And  here,  before  Thy  throne,  I  swear 
v  From  my  heart's  inmost  core  to  tear 

Love,  hope,  remembrance,  though  they  be 
Link'd  with  each  quivering  life-string  there, 

And  give  it  bleeding  all  to  Thee  ! 
Let  him  but  live,  —  the  burning  tear, 
The  sighs,  so  sinful,  yet  so  dear, 
Which  have  been  all  too  much  his  own, 
Shall  from  this  hour  be  Heaven's  alone. 
Youth  pass'd  in  penitence,  and  age 
In  long  and  painful  pilgrimage, 
Shall  leave  no  traces  of  the  flame 
That  wastes  me  now — nor  shall  his  name 
E'er  bless  my  lips,  but  when  I  pray 
For  his  dear  spirit,  that  away 
Casting  from  its  angelic  ray 
The  eclipse  of  earth,  he,  too,  may  shine 


Redeera'd  all  glorious  and  all  Thine ! 
Think  —  think  what  victory  to  win 
One  radiant  soul  like  his  from  sin,  — 
One  wandering  star  of  virtue  back 
To  its  own  native,  heavenward  track  ! 
Let  him  but  live,  and  both  are  Thine, 

Together  Thine  —  for,  blest  or  crost, 
Living  or  dead,  his  doom  is  mine, 

And,  if  he  perish,  both  are  lost  I " 


THE  next  evening,  LALLA  ROOKH  was  entreated  by  hev 
Ladies  to  continue  the  relation  of  her  wonderful  dream  ; 
but  the  fearful  interest  that  hung  round  the  fate  of 
HIND  A  and  her  lover  had  completely  removed  every  trace 
of  it  from  her  mind ;  —  much  to  the  disappointment  of  a 
fair  seer  or  two  in  her  train,  who  prided  themselves  on 
their  skill  in  interpreting  visions,  and  who  had  already 
remarked,  as  an  unlucky  omen,  that  the  Princess,  on  the 
very  morning  after  the  dream,  had  worn  a  silk  dyed  with 
the  blossoms  of  the  sorrowful  tree,  Nilica.28* 

FADLADEEN,  whose  indignation  had  more  than  once 
broken  out  during  the  recital  of  some  parts  of  this  heter- 
odox poem,  seemed  at  length  to  have  made  up  his  mind 
to  the  infliction  ;  and  took  his  seat  this  evening  with  all 
the  patience  of  a  martyr,  while  the  Poet  resumed  his 
profane  and  seditious  story  as  follows :  — 


To  tearless  eyes  and  hearts  at  ease 
The  leafy  shores  and  sun-bright  seas, 
That  lay  beneath  that  mountain's  height, 
Had  been  a  fair  enchanting  sight. 
'Twos  one  of  those  ambrosial  eves 
A  day  of  storm  so  often  leaves 
At  its  calm  setting  —  when  the  West 
Opens  her  golden  bowers  of  rest, 
And  a  moist  radiance  from  the  skies 
Shoots  trembling  down,  as  from  the  eyes 
Of  some  meek  penitent,  whose  last 
Bright  hours  atone  for  dark  ones  past, 
And  whose  sweet  tears,  o'er  wrong  forgiven, 
Shine,  as  they  fall,  with  light  from  heaven ! 

'Twas  stillness  all  —  the  winds  that  late 

Had  rush'd  through  KERMAN'S  almond  groves, 
And  shaken  from  her  bowers  of  date 

That  cooling  feast  the  traveller  loves,285 
Now,  lull'd  to  languor,  scarcely  curl 

The  Green  Sea  wave,  whoso  waters  gleam 
Limpid,  as  if  her  mines  of  pearl 

Were  melted  all  to  form  the  stream  : 
And  her  fair  islets,  small  and  bright, 

With  their  green  shores  reflected  there, 
Look  like  those  PERI  isles  of  light, 

That  hang  by  spell-work  in  the  air. 

But  vainly  did  those  glories  burst 
On  HINDA'S  dazzled  eyes,  when  first 
The  bandage  from  her  brow  \va,s  taken, 
And,  pale  and  awed  as  those  who  waken 


In  their  dark  tombs  —  when,  scowling  near, 
The  Searchers  of  the  Grave  286  appear,  — 
She  shuddering  turn'd  to  read  her  fate 

In  the  fierce  eyes  that  fiash'd  around; 
And  saw  those  towers  all  desolate, 

That  o'er  her  head  terrific  frown'd, 
As  if  defying  e'en  the  smile 
Of  that  soft  heaven  to  gild  their  pile. 
In  vain,  with  mingled  hope  and  fear, 
She  looks  for  him,  whose  voice  so  dear 
Had  come,  like  music,  to  her  ear  — 
Strange,  mocking  dream !  again  'tis  fled. 
And  oh,  the  shoots,  the  pangs  of  dread 
That  through  her  inmost  bosom  run, 

When  voices  from  without  proclaim 
"HAFED,  the  Chief"  —and,  one  by  one, 

The  warriors  shout  that  fearful  name ! 
He  comes  —  the  rock  resounds  his  tread  — 
How  shall  she  dare  to  lift  her  head, 
Or  meet  those  eyes  whose  scorching  glare 
Not  YEMEN'S  boldest  sons  can  bear  ? 
In  whose  red  beam,  the  Moslem  tells, 
Such  rank  and  deadly  lustre  dwells, 
As  in  those  hellish  fires  that  light 
The  mandrake's  charnel  leaves  at  night.287 
How  shall  she  bear  that  voice's  tone, 
At  whose  loud  battle-cry  alone 
Whole  squadrons  oft  in  panic  ran, 
Scatter'd  like  some  vast  caravan, 
When,  stretch'd  at  evening  round  the  well, 
They  hear  the  thirsting  tiger's  yell ! 
Breathless  she  stands,  with  eyes  cast  down, 
Shrinking  beneath  the  fiery  frown 
Which,  fancy  tells  her,  from  that  brow 
Is  flashing  o'er  her  fiercely  now  : 


And  shuddering  as  she  hears  the  tread 

Of  his  retiring  warrior  band.  — 
Never  was  pause  so  full  of  dread ; 

Till  HAFED  with  a  trembling  hand 
Took  hers,  and,  leaning  o'er  her,  said, 
"  HINDA  ; "  —  that  word  was  all  he  spoke, 
And  'twas  enough  —  the  shriek  that  broke 

From  her  full  bosom  told  the  rest.  — 
Panting  with  terror,  joy,  surprise, 
The  muid  but  lifts  her  wondering  eyes, 
'  To  hide  them  on  her  Gheber's  breast ! 
'Tis  he,  'tis  he  — the  man  of  blood, 
The  fellest  of  the  Fire-fiend's  brood, 
HAFEU,  the  demon  of  the  fight, 
Whose  voice  unnerves,  whose  glances  blight,  — 
Is  her  own  loved  Gheber,  mild 
And  glorious  as  when  first  he  smil'd 
In  her  lone  tower,  and  left  such  beams 
Of  his  pure  eye  to  light  her  dreams, 
That  she  believ'd  her  bower  had  given 
Rest  to  some  wanderer  from  heaven. 

Moments  there  are,  and  this  was  one, 
Snatch 'd  like  a  minute's  gleam  of  sun 
Amid  the  black  Simoom's  eclipse  — 

Or,  like  those  verdant  spots  that  bloom 
Around  the  crater's  burning  lips, 

Sweetening  the  very  edge  of  doom ! 
The  past  —  the  future  —  all  that  Fate 
Can  bring  of  dark  or  desperate 
Around  such  hours,  but  makes  them  cast 
Intenser  radiance  while  they  last! 

Even  he,  this  youth  —  though  dimm'd  and  gone 
Each  star  of  Hope  that  cheer'd  him  on  — 


His  glories  lost  —  his  cause  betray'd  — 

IBAK,  his  dear-lov'd  country,  made 

A  land  of  carcasses  and  slaves, 

One  dreary  waste  of  chains  and  graves  !  — 

Himself  but  lingering,  dead  at  heart, 

To  see  the  last,  long  struggling  breath 
Of  Liberty's  great  soul  depart, 

Then  lay  him  down  and  share  her  death  — 
Even  he,  so  sunk  in  wretchedness, 

With  doom  still  darker  gathering  o'er  him, 
Yet,  in  this  moment's  pure  caress, 

In  the  mild  eyes  that  shone  before  him, 
Beaming  that  blest  assurance,  worth 
All  other  transports  known  on  earth, 
That  he  was  lov'd  —  well,  warmly  lov'd  — 
Oh !  in  this  precious  hour  he  prov'd 
How  deep,  how  thorough-felt  the  glow 
Of  rapture,  kindling  out  of  woe  ;  — 
How  exquisite  one  single  drop 
Of  bliss,  thus  sparkling  to  the  top 
Of  misery's  cup  —  how  keenly  quaff' d, 
Though  death  must  follow  on  the  draught  t 

She,  too,  while  gazing  on  those  eyes 

That  sink  into  her  soul  so  deep, 
Forgets  all  fears,  all  miseries, 

Or  feels  them  like  the  wretch  in  sleep, 
Whom  fancy  cheats  into  a  smile, 
Who  dreams  of  joy,  and  sobs  the  while ! 
The  mighty  Ruins  where  they  stood, 

Upon  the  mount's  high,  rocky  verge, 
Lay  open  tow'rds  the  ocean  flood, 

Where  lightly  o'er  the  illumin'd  surge 
Many  a  fair  bark  that,  all  the  day, 
Had  lurk'd  in  sheltering  creek  or  bay, 


Now  bounded  on,  and  gave  their  sails, 
Yet  dripping,  to  the  evening  gales ; 
Like  eagles,  when  the  storm  is  done, 
Spreading  their  wet  wings  in  the  sun. 
The  beauteous  clouds,  though  daylight's  Star 
Had  sunk  behind  the  hills  of  LAR, 

Were  still  with  lingering  glories  bright,  — 
As  if,  to  grace  the  gorgeous  West, 

The  Spirit  of  departing  Light 
That  eve  had  left  his  sunny  vest 

Behind  him,  ere  he  wing'd  his  flight. 
Never  was  scene  so  form'd  for  love ! 
Beneath  them  waves  of  crystal  move 
In  silent  swell  —  Heaven  glows  above, 
And  their  pure  hearts,  to  transport  given, 
Swell  like  the  wave,  and  glow  like  Heaven, 

But,  ah !  too  soon  that  dream  is  past  — 

Again,  again  her  fear  returns  ;  — 
Night,  dreadful  night,  is  gathering  fast, 

More  faintly  the  horizon  burns, 
And  every  rosy  tint  that  lay 
On  the  smooth  sea  hath  died  away. 
Hastily  to  the  darkening  skies 
A  glance  she  casts  —  then  wildly  cries: 
"  At  niyht,  he  said  —  and  look,  'tis  near  — 

Fly,  fly  —  if  yet  thou  lov'st  me,  fly  — 
Soon  will  his  murderous  band  be  here, 

And  1  shall  see  thee  bleed  and  die.  — 
Hush  !  heard'st  thou  not  the  tramp  of  men 
Sounding  from  yonder  fearful  glen  ?  — 
Perhaps  e'en  now  they  climb  the  wood  — 

Fly,  fly  —  though  still  the  West  is  bright, 
He'll  come  — oh  !  yes  —  he  wants  thy  blood  — 

I  know  him  —  he'll  riot  wait  for  night !  " 


In  terrors  e'en  to  agony 

She  clings  around  the  wondering  Chief ; 
"  Alas,  poor  wilder'd  niaid  !  to  me 

Thou  ow'st  this  raving  trance  of  grief. 
Lost  as  I  am,  nought  ever  grew 
Beneath  my  shade  but  perish'd  too  — 
My  doom  is  like  the  Dead  Sea  air, 
And  nothing  lives  that  enters  there  ! 
Why  were  our  barks  together  driven 
Beneath  this  morning's  furious  heaven  ? 
Why  when  I  saw  the  prize  that  chance 

Had  thrown  into  my  desperate  arms,  — 
When,  casting  but  a  single  glance 

Upon  thy  pale  and  prostrate  charms, 
I  vow'd  (though  watching  viewless  o'er 

Thy  safety  through  that  hour's  alarms) 
To  meet  the  unmanning  sight  no  more  — 
Why  have  I  broke  that  heart-wrung  vow  ? 
Why  weakly,  madly  met  thee  now  ?  — 
Start  not  —  that  noise  is  but  the  shock 

Of  torrents  through  yon  valley  hurl'd  — • 
Dread  nothing  here  —  upon  this  rock 

We  stand  above  the  jarring  world, 
Alike  beyond  its  hope  —  its  dread  — 
In  gloomy  safety,  like  the  Dead  ! 
Or,  could  e'en  earth  and  hell  unite 
In  league  to  storm  this  Sacred  Height, 
Fear  nothing  thou  —  myself,  to-night, 
And  each  o'erlooking  star  that  dwells 
Near  God,  will  be  thy  sentinels  ;  — 
And  ere  to-morrow's  dawn  shall  glow, 
Back  to  thy  sire  —  " 

"  To-morrow  !  —  no  — 
The  maiden  scream'd  —  "  thou'lt  never  see 
To-morrow's  sun  —  death,  death  will  be 


The  night-cry  through  each  reeking  tower, 

Unless  we  fly,  ay,  fly  this  hour ! 

Thou  art  betray'd  —  some  wretch  who  knew 

That  dreadful  glen's  mysterious  clew  — 

Nay,  doubt  not  —  by  yon  stars,  'tis  true  — 

Hath  sold  thee  to  my  vengeful  sire  ; 

This  morning,  with  that  smile  so  dire 

He  wears  in  joy,  he  told  me  all, 

And  stamp'd  in  triumph  through  our  hall, 

As  though  thy  heart  already  beat 

Its  last  life-throb  beneath  his  feet! 

Good  Heaven,  how  little  dream'd  I  then 

His  victim  was  my  own  lov'd  youth  !  — 
Fly  —  send  —  let  some  one  watch  the  glen  — 

By  all  my  hopes  of  heaven  'tis  truth ! " 

Oh !   colder  than  the  wind  that  freezes 

Founts,  that  but  now  in  sunshine  play'd, 
Is  that  congealing  pang  which  seizes 

The  trusting  bosom,  when  betray'd. 
He  felt  it  —  deeply  felt  —  and  stood, 
As  if  the  tale  had  frozen  his  blood, 

So  maz'd  and  motionless  was  he;  — 
Like  one  whom  sudden  spells  enchant, 
Or  some  mute,  marble  habitant 

Of  the  still  Halls  of  ISIIMONIK  !3" 

Hut  soon  the  painful  chill  was  o'er, 
And  his  great  soul,  herself  once  more, 
Look'd  from  his  brow  in  all  the  rays 
Of  her  l>est,  happiest,  grandest  days. 
Never,  in  moment  most  elate, 

Did  that  hi.^h  spirit  loftier  rise;  — 
While  bright,  serene,  determinate, 

His  looks  are  lifted  to  the  skies, 


As  if  the  signal  lights  of  Fate 

Were  shining  in  those  awful  eyes ! 
'Tis  come  —  his  hour  of  martyrdom 
In  IRAN'S  sacred  cause  is  come ; 
And,  though  his  life  hath  pass'd  away 
Like  lightning  on  a  stormy  day, 
Yet  shall  his  death-hour  leave  a  track 

Of  glory,  permanent  and  bright, 
To  which  the  brave  of  after-times, 
The  suffering  brave,  shall  long  look  back 
With  proud  regret,  —  and  by  its  light 
Watch  through  the  hours  of  slavery's  night 
For  vengeance  on  the  oppressor's  crimes. 
This  rock,  his  monument  aloft, 

Shall  speak  the  tale  to  many  an  age ; 
And  hither  bards  and  heroes  oft 

Shall  come  in  secret  pilgrimage, 
And  bring  their  warrior  sons,  and  tell 
The  wondering  boys  where  HAFED  fell ; 
And  swear  them  on  those  lone  remains 
Of  their  lost  country's  ancient  fanes, 
Never  —  while  breath  of  life  shall  live 
Within  them  —  never  to  forgive 
The  accursed  race,  whose  ruthless  chain 
Hath  left  on  IRAN'S  neck  a  stain 
Blood,  blood  alone  can  cleanse  again ! 

Such  are  the  swelling  thoughts  that  now 
Enthrone  themselves  on  HAFED'S  brow; 
And  ne'er  did  saint  of  ISSA  289  gaze 

On  the  red  wreath,  for  martyrs  twin'd, 
More  proudly  than  the  youth  surveys 

That  pile,  which  through  the  gloom  behind, 
Half  lighted  by  the  altar's  fire, 
Glimmers — his  destin'd.  funera.1  pyre! 

THE  FlHE-WOliSaiPPEttS.  181 

Heap'd  by  his  own,  his  comrades'  hands, 

Of  every  wood  of  odorous  breath, 
There,  by  the  Fire-God's  shrine  it  stands, 

Ready  to  fold  in  radiant  death 
The  few  still  left  of  those  who  swore 
To  perish  there,  when  hope  was  o'er  — 
The  few,  to  whom  that  couch  of  flame, 
Which  rescues  them  from  bonds  and  shame, 
Is  sweet  and  Avelcome  as  the  bed 
For  their  own  infant  Prophet  spread, 
When  pitying  Heaven  to  roses  turn'd 
The  death-flames  that  beneath  him  burn'd !  ^ 

With  watchfulness  the  maid  attends 

His  rapid  glance,  where'er  it  bends  — 

Why  shoot  his  eyes  such  awful  beams  ? 

What  plans  he  now  ?   what  thinks  or  dreams  ? 

Alas  !   why  stands  he  musing  here, 

When  every  moment  teems  with  fear  ? 

"  H.VFKD,  my  own  beloved  Lord," 

She  kneeling  cries  — "  first,  last  ador'd ! 

If  in  that  soul  thou'st  ever  felt 

Half  what  thy  lips  impassion'd  swore, 
Here,  on  my  knees  that  never  knelt 

To  any  but  their  Hod  before, 
I  pray  thee,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  fly  — 
Jsow,  now  — ere  yet  their  blades  are  nigh. 
Oh  haste  —  the  bark  that  brought  me  hither 

Can  waft  us  o'er  yon  darkening  sea 
East  —  west  —  alas,  I  care  not  whither, 

So  thou  art  safe,  and  I  with  thee ! 
Go  where  we  will,  this  hand  in  thine, 

Those  eyes  In-fore  me  smiling  thus, 
Through  good  and  ill,  through  storm  and  shine, 

The  world's  a  world  of  love  for  us  ! 

182  LALLA   ROOKH. 

On  some  calm,  blessed  shore  we'll  dwell, 
Where  'tis  no  crime  to  love  too  well ;  — 
Where  thus  to  worship  tenderly 
An  erring  child  of  light  like  thee 
Will  not  be  sin  —  or,  if  it  be, 
Where  we  may  weep  our  faults  away, 
Together  kneeling,  night  and  day, 
Thou,  for  my  sake,  at  ALLA'S  shrine, 
And  I  —  at  any  God's  for  thine  ! " 

Wildly  these  passionate  words  she  spoke  — 
Then  hung  her  head,  and  wept  for  shame ; 
Sobbing  as  if  a  heart-string  broke 

WTith  every  deep-heav'd  sob  that  came. 
While  he,  young,  warm  —  oh  !  wonder  not 
If,  for  a  moment,  pride  and  fame, 
His  oath  —  his  cause  —  that  shrine  of  flame. 
And  IRAN'S  self  are  all  forgot 
For  her  whom  at  his  feet  he  sees 
Kneeling  in  speechless  agonies. 
No,  blame  him  not,  if  Hope  awhile 
Dawn'd  in  his  soul,  and  threw  her  smile 
O'er  hours  to  come  —  o'er  days  and  nights, 
Wing'd  with  those  precious,  pure  delights 
Which  she,  who  bends  all  beauteous  there, 
Was  born  to  kindle  and  to  share. 
A  tear  or  two,  which,  as  he  bow'd 

To  raise  the  suppliant,  trembling  stole, 
First  warn'd  him  of  this  dangerous  cloud 

Of  softness  passing  o'er  his  soul. 
Starting,  he  brush'd  the  drops  away, 
Unworthy  o'er  that  cheek  to  stray  ;  — 
Like  one  who,  on  the  morn  of  fight, 
Shakes  from  his  sword  the  dews  of  night, 
That  had  but  dimm'd,  not  stain'd  its  light. 

THE  FinE-\voRsnirpEiiS.  183 

Yet,  though  subdued  the  unnerving  thrill, 
Its  warmth,  its  weakness  lingered  still, 

So  touching  in  each  look  and  tone 
That  the  fond,  fearing,  hoping  maid 
Half  counted  on  the  flight  she  pray'd, 

Half  thought  the  hero's  soul  was  grown 

As  soft,  as  yielding  as  her  own, 
And  smil'd  and  bless'd  him,  while  he  said, — 
"  Yes  —  if  there  be  some  happier  sphere, 
Where  fadeless  truth  like  ours  is  dear,  — 
If  there  be  any  land  of  rest 

For  those  who  love  and  ne'er  forget, 
Oh !  comfort  thee  —  for  safe  and  blest 

We'll  meet  in  that  calm  region  yet !  " 

Scarce  had  she  time  to  ask  her  heart 
If  good  or  ill  these  words  impart, 
When  the  rous'd  youth  impatient  flew 
To  the  tower-wall,  where,  high  in  view, 
A  ponderous  sea-horn 2"  hung,  and  blew 
A  signal,  deep  and  dread  as  those 
The  storm-fiend  at  his  rising  blows.  — 
Full  well  his  Chieftains,  sworn  and  true 
Through  life  and  death,  that  signal  knew; 
For  'twas  the  appointed  warning-blast, 
The  alarm,  to  tell  when  hope  was  past, 
And  the  tremendous  death-die  cast! 
And  there,  upon  the  mouldering  tower, 
Hath  hung  this  sea-horn  many  an  hour, 
Ready  to  sound  o'er  land  and  sea 
That  dirge-note  of  the  brave  and  free. 
They  c;ime  — his  Chieftains  at  the  call 
Came  slowly  round,  and  with  them  all  — 
Alas,  how  few  !  —  the  worn  remains 
Of  those  who  late  o'er  KK UMAX'S  plains 

184  LALLA   EOOKH. 

Went  gayly  prancing  to  the  clash 

Of  Moorish  zel  and  tyinbalon, 
Catching  new  hope  from  every  flash 

Of  their  long  lances  in  the  sun, 
And,  as  their  coursers  charg'd  the  wind, 
And  the  white  ox-tails  stream'd  behind,292 
Looking  as  if  the  steeds  they  rode 
Were  wing'd,  and  every  Chief  a  God  ! 
How  fallen,  how  alter'd  now  !  how  wan 
Each  scarr'd  and  faded  visage  shone, 
As  round  the  burning  shrine  they  came  !  — 

How  deadly  was  the  glare  it  cast, 
As  mute  they  paus'd  before  the  flame 

To  light  their  torches  as  they  pass'd  ! 
'Twas  silence  all  —  the  youth  had  plann'd 
The  duties  of  his  soldier-band  ; 
And  each  determin'd  brow  declares 
His  faithful  Chieftains  well  know  theirs. 

But  minutes  speed  —  night  gems  the  skies  — 
And  oh,  how  soon,  ye  blessed  eyes, 
That  look  from  heaven,  ye  may  behold 
Sights  that  will  turn  your  star-fires  cold  ! 
Breathless  with  awe,  impatience,  hope, 
The  maiden  sees  the  veteran  group 
Her  litter  silently  prepare, 

And  lay  it  at  her  trembling  feet ;  — 
And  now  the  youth,  with  gentle  care, 

Hath  placed  her  in  the  shelter'd  seat, 
And  press'd  her  hand  —  that  lingering  press 

Of  hands,  that  for  the  last  time  sever; 
Of  hearts,  whose  pulse  of  happiness, 

When  that  hold  breaks,  is  dead  forever. 
And  yet  to  her  this  sad  caress 

Gives  hope  —  so  fondly  hope  can  err ! 


'Twas  joy,  she  thought,  joy's  mute  excess  — 

Their  happy  flight's  dear  harbinger ; 
'Twas  warmth  —  assurance  —  tenderness  — 

'Twas  anything  but  leaving  her. 

"  Haste,  haste  ! "  she   cried,  "  the  clouds  grow 


But  still,  ere  night,  we'll  reach  the  bark ; 
And  by  to-morrow's  dawn  —  oh  bliss  ! 

With  thee  upon  the  sun-bright  deep, 
Far  off,  I'll  but  remember  this, 

As  some  dark  vanish'd  dream  of  sleep  ; 
And  thou  —      "  but  ah  !  —  he  answers  not  — 

Good  Heaven  !  —  and  does  she  go  alone  ? 
She  now  has  reach'd  that  dismal  spot, 

Where,  some  hours  since,  his  voice's  tone 
Had  come  to  soothe  her  fears  and  ills, 
Sweet  as  the  angel  IsnAFiL's,2*8 
When  every  leaf  on  Eden's  tree 
Is  trembling  to  his  minstrelsy  — 
Yet  now — oh,  now,  he  is  not  nigh.  — 

HA  FED  !  my  HA  FED  !  —  if  it  be 
Thy  will,  thy  doom  this  night  to  die, 

Let  me  but  stay  to  die  with  thee, 
And  I  will  bless  thy  loved  name, 
Till  the  last  life-breath  leave  this  frame. 
Oh  !  let  our  lips,  our  cheeks  be  laid 
lint  near  each  other  while  they  fade ; 
Let  us  but  mix  our  parting  breaths, 
And  I  can  die  ten  thousand  deaths! 
You  too,  who  hurry  me  away 
So  cruelly,  one  moment  stay  - 

Oli !  stay — one  moment  is  not  much  — 
He  yet  may  come  —  for  //////  I  pray  — 
HAKKD  !  dear  HAFED!—  •"  all  the  way 


In  wild  lamentings,  that  would  touch 
A  heart  of  stone,  she  shriek'd  his  name 
To  the  dark  woods  —  no  HAFED  came :  — 
No  —  hapless  pair  —  you've  look'd  your  last :  • 

Your  hearts  should  both  have  broken  then : 
The  dream  is  o'er  —  your  doom  is  cast  — 

You'll  never  meet  on  earth  again ! 

Alas  for  him,  who  hears  her  cries ! 

Still  half-way  down  the  steep  he  stands, 
Watching  with  fix'd  and  feverish  eyes 

The  glimmer  of  those  burning  brands, 
That  down  the  rocks,  with  mournful  ray, 
Light  all  he  loves  on  earth  away ! 
Hopeless  as  they  who,  far  at  sea, 

By  the  cold  moon  have  just  consign'd 
The  corse  of  one,  lov'd  tenderly, 

To  the  bleak  flood  they  leave  behind ; 
And  on  the  deck  still  lingering  stay, 
And  long  look  back,  Avith  sad  delay, 
To  watch  the  moonlight  on  the  wave, 
That  ripples  o'er  that  cheerless  grave. 

But  see  —  he  starts  —  what  heard  he  then  ? 
That  dreadful  shout !  —  across  the  glen 
From  the  land-side  it  comes,  and  loud 
Rings  through  the  chasm ;  as  if  the  crowd 
Of  fearful  things,  that  haunt  that  dell, 
Its  Gholes  and  Dives  and  shapes  of  hell, 
Had  all  in  one  dread  howl  broke  out, 
So  loud,  so  terrible  that  shout ! 
"  They  come  —  the  Moslems  come !  "  he  cries. 
His  proud  soul  mounting  to  his  eyes, — 
"Now,  Spirits  of  the  Brave,  who  roam 
Enfranchis'd  through  yon  starry  dome, 


Rejoice  —  for  souls  of  kindred  fire 

Are  on  the  wing  to  join  your  choir ! " 

He  said  —  and,  light  as  bridegrooms  bound 

To  their  young  loves,  reclimb'd  the  steep 
And  gain'd  the  Shrine — his  Chiefs  stood  round  — 

Their  swords,  as  with  instinctive  leap, 
Together,  at  that  cry  accurst, 
Had  from  their  sheaths,  like  sunbeams,  burst. 
And  hark  !  —  again  —  again  it  rings  ; 
Near  and  more  near  its  echoings 
Peal  through  the  chasm  —  oh  !  who  that  then 
Had  seen  those  listening  warrior-men, 
With  their  swords  grasp'd,  their  eyes  of  flame 
Tunfd  on  their  Chief  —  could  doubt  the  shame, 
The  indignant  shame  with  which  they  thrill 
To  hear  those  shouts  and  yet  stand  still  ? 

He  read  their  thoughts  —  they  were  his  own  — 

"What!  while  our  arms  can  wield  these  blades, 
Shall  we  die  tamely  ?  die  alone  ? 

Without  one  victim  to  our  shades, 
One  Moslem  heart,  where,  buried  deep, 
The  sabre  from  its  toil  may  sleep  ? 
No  —  (rod  of  IRAN'S  burning  skies! 
Thou  scorn'st  the  inglorious  sacrifice. 
No  —  though  of  all  earth's  hope  bereft, 
Life,  swords,  and  vengeance  still  are  left. 
We'll  make  yon  valley's  reeking  caves 

Live  in  the  awe-struck  minds  of  men, 
Till  tyrants  shudder,  when  their  slaves 

Tell  of  the  GhelM'r's  bloody  glen. 
Follow,  brave  hearts!  —  this  pile  remains 
Our  refuge  still  from  life  and  chains; 
But  his  the  best,  the  holiest  bed. 
Who  sinks  entoiub'd  in  Moslem  dead!" 


Down  the  precipitous  rocks  they  sprung, 
While  vigor,  more  than  human,  strung 
Each  arm  and  heart.  —  The  exulting  foe 
Still  through  the  dark  defiles  below, 
Track'd  by  his  torches'  lurid  fire, 

Wound  slow,  as  through  GOLCONDA'S  vale 294 
The  mighty  serpent,  in  his  ire, 

Glides  on  with  glittering,  deadly  trail. 
Xo  torch  the  Ghebers  need  —  so  well 
They  know  each  mystery  of  the  dell, 
So  oft  have,  in  their  wanderings, 
Cross'd  the  wild  race  that  round  them  dwell, 

The  very  tigers  from  their  delves 
Look  out,  and  let  them  pass,  as  things 

Untam'd  and  fearless  like  themselves  ! 

There  was  a  deep  ravine,  that  lay 

Yet  darkling  in  the  Moslem's  way ; 

Fit  spot  to  make  invaders  rue 

The  many  fallen  before  the  few. 

The  torrents  from  that  morning's  sky 

Had  fill'd  the  narrow  chasm  breast  high, 

And,  on  each  side,  aloft  and  wild, 

Huge  cliffs  and  toppling  crags  were  pil'd,  — 

The  guards  with  which  young  Freedom  lines 

The  pathways  to  her  mountain-shrines. 

Here,  at  this  pass,  the  scanty  band 

Of  IRAN'S  last  avengers  stand ; 

Here  wait,  in  silence  like  the  dead, 

And  listen  for  the  Moslem's  tread 

So  anxiously,  the  carrion-bird 

Above  them  flaps  his  wing  unheard ! 

They  come  —  that  plunge  into  the  water 
Gives  signal  for  the  work  of  slaughter. 


Now,  Ghebers,  now  —  if  e'er  your  blades 

Had  point  or  prowess,  prove  them  now  — 
Woe  to  the  file  that  foremost  wades ! 

They  come  —  a  falchion  greets  each  brow, 
And,  as  they  tumble,  trunk  on  trunk, 
Beneath  the  gory  waters  sunk, 
Still  o'er  their  drowning  bodies  press 
New  victims  quick  and  numberless ; 
Till  scarce  an  arm  in  HA  FED'S  band, 

So  fierce  their  toil,  hath  power  to  stir, 
But  listless  from  each  crimson  hand 

The  sword  hangs,  clogg'd  with  massacre. 
Never  was  horde  of  tyrants  met 
With  bloodier  welcome  —  never  yet 
To  patriot  vengeance  hath  the  sword 
More  terrible  libations  pour'd. 

All  up  the  dreary,  long  ravine, 
By  the  red,  murky  glimmer  seen 
Of  half-quench'd  brands  that  o'er  the  flood 
Lie  scatter'd  round  and  burn  in  blood, 
What  ruin  glares  !  what  carnage  swims  ! 
Heads,  blazing  turbans,  quivering  limbs, 
Lost  swords  that,  dropp'd  from  man}-  a  hand, 
In  that  thick  pool  of  slaughter  stand ;  — 
Wretches  who  wading,  half  on  fire 

From  the  toss'd  brands  that  round  them  fly, 
'Twixt  flood  and  flame  in  shrieks  expire  ; 

And  some  who,  grasp'd  by  those  that  die, 
Sink  woundless  with  them,  smother'd  o'er 
In  their  dead  brethren's  gushing  gore! 

But  vainly  hundreds,  thousands  bleed, 
Still  hundreds,  thousands  more  succeed; 
Countless  as  tow'rds  some  flame  at  night 


The  North's  dark  insects  wing  their  flight. 

And  quench  or  perish  in  its  light, 

To  this  terrific  spot  they  pour  — 

Till,  bridg'd  with  Moslem  bodies  o'er, 

It  bears  aloft  their  slippery  tread, 

And  o'er  the  dying  and  the  dead, 

Tremendous  causeway  !  on  they  pass. 

Then,  hapless  Ghebers,  then,  alas  ! 

What  hope  was  left  for  you  ?  for  you, 

Whose  yet  warm  pile  of  sacrifice 

Is  smoking  in  their  vengeful  eyes  ? 

Whose  swords  how  keen,  how  fierce  they  knew, 

And  burn  with  shame  to  find  how  few  ? 

Crush'd  down  by  that  vast  multitude, 

Some  found  their  graves  where  first  they  stood  ; 

While  some  with  hardier  struggle  died, 

And  still  fought  on  by  HAFED'S  side, 

Who,  fronting  to  the  foe,  trod  back 

Tow'rds  the  high  towers  his  gory  track ; 

And,  as  a  lion  swept  away 

By  sudden  swell  of  JORDAN'S  pride 
From  the  wild  covert  where  he  lay,295 

Long  battles  with  the  o'erwhelming  tide, 
So  fought  he  back  with  fierce  delay, 
And  kept  both  foes  and  fate  at  bay. 

But  whither  now  ?  their  track  is  lost, 

Their  prey  escap'd  —  guide,  torches  gone  — 

By  torrent-beds  and  labyrinths  crost, 
The  scatter'd  crowd  rush  blindly  on  — 

"  Curse  on  those  tardy  lights  that  wind," 

They  panting  cry,  "  so  far  behind ; 

Oh  for  a  bloodhound's  precious  scent, 

To  track  the  way  the  GTheber  went ! " 


Vain  wish  — confusedly  along 

They  rush,  more  desperate  as  more  wrong : 

Till,  wilder'd  by  the  far-off  lights, 

Yet  glittering  up  those  gloomy  heights, 

Their  footing,  maz'd  and  lost,  they  miss, 

And  down  the  darkling  precipice 

Are  dash'd  into  the  deep  abyss ; 

Or  midway  hang,  impal'd  on  rocks, 

A  banquet,  yet  alive,  for  flocks 

Of  ravening  vultures,  —  while  the  dell 

Ke-echoes  with  each  horrible  yell. 

Those  sounds — the  last,  to  vengeance  dear, 
That  e'er  shall  ring  in  HAFED'S  ear, — 
Now  reach'd  him,  as  aloft,  alone, 
Upon  the  steep  way  breathless  thrown, 
He  lay  beside  his  reeking  blade, 

Resign'd,  as  if  life's  task  were  o'er, 
Its  last  blood-offering  amply  paid, 

And  IRAN'S  self  could  claim  no  more. 
One  only  thought,  one  lingering  beam 
Now  broke  across  his  dizzy  dream 
Of  pain  and  weariness  —  'twas  she, 

His  heart's  pure  planet,  shining  yet 
Above  the  waste  of  memory, 

When  all  life's  other  lights  were  set. 
And  never  to  his  mind  before 
Her  image  such  enchantment  wore. 
It  seem'd  as  if  each  thought  that  stain'd, 

Each  fear  that  ehill'd  their  loves,  was  past, 
And  not  one  cloud  of  earth  reinain'd 

Between  him  and  her  radiance  east;  — 
As  if  to  charms,  before  so  bright, 

New  grace  from  other  worlds  w;is  given, 


And  his  soul  saw  her  by  the  light 

Now  breaking  o'er  itself  from  heaven ! 

A  voice  spoke  near  him — 'twas  the  tone 

Of  a  lov'd  friend,  the  only  one 

Of  all  his  warriors,  left  with  life 

From  that  short  night's  tremendous  strife.  — 

"  And  must  we  then,  my  Chief,  die  here  ? 

Foes  round  us,  and  the  Shrine  so  near !  " 

These  words  have  rous'd  the  last  remains 

Of  life  within  him  —  "  What !  not  yet 
Beyond  the  reach  of  Moslem  chains  ! " 

The  thought  could  make  e'en  Death  forget 
His  icy  bondage  —  with  a  bound 
He  springs,  all  bleeding,  from  the  ground, 
And  grasps  his  comrade's  arm,  now  grown 
E'en  feebler,  heavier  than  his  own, 
And  up  the  painful  pathway  leads, 
Death  gaining  on  each  step  he  treads. 
Speed  them,  thou  God,  who  heard'st  their  vow ! 
They  mount  —  they  bleed  —  oh,  save  them  now  ! 
The  crags  are  red  they've  clamber'd  o'er, 
The  rock-weed's  dripping  with  their  gore  ;  — 
Thy  blade  too,  HAFED,  false  at  length, 
Now  breaks  beneath  thy  tottering  strength  ! 
Haste,  haste  —  the  voices  of  the  Foe 
Come  near  and  nearer  from  below  — 
One  effort  more  —  thank  Heaven  !  'tis  past, 
They've  gain'd  the  topmost  steep  at  last. 
And  now  they  touch  the  temple's  walls, 

Now  HAFED  sees  the  Fire  divine  — 
When,  lo  !  —  his  weak,  worn  comrade  falls 

Dead  on  the  threshold  of  the  Shrine. 
"  Alas,  brave  soul,  too  quickly  fled ! 

And  must  I  leave  thee  withering  here, 


The  sport  of  every  ruffian's  tread, 

The  mark  for  every  coward's  spear  ? 
No,  by  yon  altar's  sacred  beams !  " 
He  cries,  and,  with  a  strength  that  seems 
Not  of  this  world,  uplifts  the  frame 
Of  the  fallen  Chief,  and  tow'rds  the  flame 
Bears  him  along  ;  —  with  death-damp  hand 

The  corpse  upon  the  pyre  he  lays, 
Then  lights  the  consecrated  brand, 

And  fires  the  pile,  whose  sudden  blaze 
Like  lightning  bursts  o'er  OMAN'S  Sea.  — 
"  Now,  Freedom's  God !  I  come  to  Thee," 
The  youth  exclaims,  and  with  a  smile 
Of  triumph  vaulting  on  the  pile 
In  that  last  effort,  ere  the  fires 
Have  harm'd  one  glorious  limb,  expires ! 

What  shriek  was  that  on  OMAN'S  tide  ? 

It  came  from  yonder  drifting  bark, 
That  just  hath  caught  upon  her  side 

The  death-light  —  and  again  is  dark. 
It  is  th«i  bout  —  ah,  why  delay 'd  ?  — 
That  bears  the  wretched  Moslem  maid; 
Confided  to  the  watchful  care 

Of  a  small  veteran  band,  with  whom 
Their  generous  Chieftain  would  not  share 

The  secret  of  his  final  doom, 
But  hop'd  when  HINDA,  safe  and  free, 

Was  render'd  to  her  father's  eyes, 
Their  pardon,  full  and  prompt,  would  be 

The  ransom  of  so  dear  a  prixe.  — 
Unconscious,  thus,  of  HAKKH'S  fate, 
And  proud  to  guard  their  beauteous  freight, 
Scarce  had  they  clear'd  the  surfy  waves 
That  foam  around  those  frightful  cuves. 


When  the  curst  war-whoops,  known  so  well, 
Came  echoing  from  the  distant  dell  — 
Sudden  each  oar,  upheld  and  still, 

Hung  dripping  o'er  the  vessel's  side, 
And,  driving  at  the  current's  will, 

They  rock'd  along  the  whispering  tide ; 
While  every  eye,  in  mute  dismay, 

Was  tow'rd  that  fatal  mountain  turn'd, 
Where  the  dim  altar's  quivering  ray 

As  yet  all  lone  and  tranquil  burn'd. 

Oh  !  'tis  not,  HIXDA,  in  the  power 

Of  Fancy's  most  terrific  touch 
To  paint  thy  pangs  in  that  dread  hour — 

Thy  silent  agony  —  'twas  such 
As  those  who  feel  could  paint  too  well, 
But  none  e'er  felt  and  lived  to  tell ! 
'Twas  not  alone  the  dreary  state 
Of  a  lorn  spirit  crush'd  by  fate, 
When,  though  no  more  remains  to  dread^ 

The  panic  chill  will  not  depart ;  — 
When,  though  the  inmate  Hope  be  dead, 

Her  ghost  still  haunts  the  mouldering  heart. 
No  —  pleasures,  hopes,  affections  gone, 
The  wretch  may  bear,  and  yet  live  on, 
Like  things,  within  the  cold  rock  found 
Alive,  when  all's  congeal'd  around. 
But  there's  a  blank  repose  in  this, 
A  calm  stagnation,  that  were  bliss 
To  the  keen,  burning,  harrowing  pain, 
Now  felt  through  all  thy  breast  and  brain;  — 
That  spasm  of  terror,  mute,  intense, 
That  breathless,  agoniz'd  suspense, 
From  whose  hot  throb,  whose  deadly  aching, 
The  heart  hath  no  relief  but  breaking ! 


Calm  is  the  wave  —  heaven's  brilliant  lights 

Reflected  dance  beneath  the  prow ;  — 
Time  was  when,  on  such  lovely  nights, 

She  who  is  there,  so  desolate  now, 
Could  sit  all  cheerful,  though  alone, 

And  ask  no  happier  joy  than  seeing 
That  starlight  o'er  the  waters  thrown  — 
No  joy  but  that,  to  make  her  blest, 

And  the  fresh,  buoyant  sense  of  being, 
Which  bounds  in  youth's  yet  careless  breast,  — 
Itself  a  star,  not  borrowing  light, 
But  in  its  own  glad  essence  bright. 
How  different  now  !  —  but,  hark,  again 
The  yell  of  havoc  rings  —  brave  men  ! 
In  vain,  with  beating  hearts,  ye  stand 
On  the  bark's  edge  —  in  vain  each  hand 
Half  draws  the  falchion  from  its  sheath ; 

All's  o'er  —  in  rust  your  blades  may  lie :  — 
He,  at  whose  word  they've  scatter'd  death, 

E'en  now,  this  night,  himself  must  die ! 
Well  may  ye  look  to  yon  dim  tower, 

And  ask,  and  wondering  guess  what  means 
The  battle-cry  at  this  dead  hour  — 

Ah  !  she  could  tell  you  —  she,  who  leans 
Unheeded  there,  pale,  sunk,  aghast, 
With  brow  against  the  dew-oold  mast; 

Too  well  she  knows  —  her  more  than  life, 
Her  soul's  first  idol  and  its  last, 

Lies  bleeding  in  that  murderous  strife. 

But  see  —  what  moves  upon  the  height  ? 
Some  signal !  —  'tis  a  torch's  light. 

What  bodes  its  solitary  glare  ? 
In  gasping  silence  tow'rd  the  Shrine 
All  eyes  are  turn'd  —  thine,  HINDA,  thine 


Fix  their  last  fading  life-beams  there. 
'Twas  but  a  moment  —  fierce  and  high 
The  death-pile  blaz'd  into  the  sky, 
And  far  away,  o'er  rock  and  flood, 

Its  melancholy  radiance  sent ; 
While  HAFED,  like  a  vision,  stood 
Reveal'd  before  the  burning  pyre, 
Tall,  shadowy,  like  a  Spirit  of  Fire 

Shrin'd  in  its  own  grand  element ! 
"  'Tis  he  !  "  —  the  shuddering  maid  exclaims, 

But,  while  she  speaks,  he's  seen  no  more  ; 
^    High  burst  in  air  the  funeral  flames, 

And  IRAN'S  hopes  and  hers  are  o'er ! 
One  wild,  heart-broken  shriek  she  gave ; 

Then  sprung,  as  if  to  reach  that  blaze, 

"Where  still  she  fix'd  her  dying  gaze, 
And,  gazing,  sunk  into  the  wave,  — 
Deep,  deep,  —  where  never  care  or  pain 
Shall  reach  her  innocent  heart  again  ! 

Farewell  —  farewell  to  thee,  ARABY'S  daughter ! 

(Thus  warbled  a  PERI  beneath  the  dark  sea,) 
No  pearl  ever  lay,  under  OMAN'S  green  water, 

More  pure  in  its  shell  than  thy  spirit  in  thee. 

Oh  !  fair  as  the  sea-flower  close  to  thee  growing, 
How  light  was  thy  heart  till  Love's  witchery  came, 

Like  the  wind  of  the  south 296  o'er  a  summer  lute  blowing, 
And  hush'd  all  its  music,  and  wither'd  its  frame  1 

But  long,  upon  ARABY'S  green  sunny  highlands, 
Shall  maids  and  their  lovers  remember  the  doom 

Of  her,  who  lies  sleeping  among  the  Pearl  Islands, 
With  nought  but  the  sea-star 297  to  light  up  her  tomb. 


And  still,  when  the  merry  date-season  is  burning,298 
And  calls  to  the  palm-groves  the  young  and  the  old, 

The  happiest  there,  from  their  pastime  returning 
At  sunset,  will  weep  when  thy  story  is  told. 

The  young  village-maid,  when  with  flowers  she  dresses 
Her  dark  flowing  hair  for  some  festival  day, 

Will  think  of  thy  fate  till,  neglecting  her  tresses, 
She  mournfully  turns  from  the  mirror  away. 

Nor  shall  IRAN,  belov'd  of  her  Hero  !  forget  thee  — 
Though  tyrants  watch  over  her  tears  as  they  start. 

Close,  close  by  the  side  of  that  Hero  she'll  set  thee, 
Embalm'd  in  the  innermost  shrine  of  her  heart. 

Farewell  —  be  it  ours  to  embellish  thy  pillow 

With  everything  beauteous  that  grows  in  the  deep ; 

Each  flower  of  the  rock  and  each  gem  of  the  billow 
Shall  sweeten  thy  bed  and  illumine  thy  sleep. 

Around  thee  shall  glisten  the  loveliest  amber 
That  ever  the  sorrowing  sea-bird  has  wept ; 2M 

With  many  a  shell,  in  whose  hollow-wreath'd  chamber 
We,  Peris  of  Ocean,  by  moonlight  have  slept. 

We'll  dive  where  the  gardens  of  coral  lie  darkling, 
And  plant  all  the  rosiest  steins  at  thy  head  ; 

We'll  seek  where  the  sands  of  the  Caspian  ao°  are  spark- 
And  gather  their  gold  to  strew  over  thy  bed. 

Farewell  —  farewell  — until  I'ity's  sweet  fountain 
Is  lost  in  the  hearts  of  the  fair  and  tin-  brave, 

They'll  weep  for  the  Chieftain  who  died  on  that  mountain, 
They'll  weep  for  the  Maiden  who  sleeps  in  this  wavw. 


THE  singular  placidity  with  which  FADLADEEN  had  lis 
tened,  during  the  latter  part  of  this  obnoxious  story, 
surprised  the  Princess  and  FERAMORZ  exceedingly ;  and 
even  inclined  towards  him  the  hearts  of  these  unsus- 
picious young  persons,  who  little  knew  the  source  of  a 
complacency  so  marvellous.  The  truth  was,  he  had 
been  organizing,  for  the  last  few  days,  a  most  notable 
plan  of  persecution  against  the  Poet,  in  consequence  of 
some  passages  that  had  fallen  from  him  on  the  second 
evening  of  recital,  —  which  appeared  to  this  worthy 
Chamberlain  to  contain  language  and  principles,  for 
which  nothing  short  of  the  summary  criticism  of  the 
Chabuk301  would  be  advisable.  It  was  his  intention, 
therefore,  immediately  on  their  arrival  at  Cashmere,  to 
give  information  to  the  King  of  Bucharia  of  the  very 
dangerous  sentiments  of  his  minstrel ;  and  if,  unfortu- 
nately, that  monarch  did  not  act  with  suitable  vigor  on 
the  occasion,  (that  is,  if  he  did  not  give  the  Chabuk  to 
FERAMORZ,  and  a  place  to  FADLADEEN,)  there  would  be 
an  end,  he  feared,  of  all  legitimate  government  in 
Bucharia.  He  could  not  help,  however,  auguring  better 
both  for  himself  and  the  cause  of  potentates  in  general ; 
and  it  was  the  pleasure  arising  from  these  mingled 
anticipations  that  diffused  such  unusual  satisfaction 
through  his  features,  and  made  his  eyes  shine  out,  like 
poppies  of  the  desert,  over  the  wide  and  lifeless  wilder- 
ness of  that  countenance. 

Having  decided  upon  the  Poet's  chastisement  in  this 
manner,  he  thought  it  but  humanity  to  spare  him  the 
minor  tortures  of  criticism.  Accordingly,  when  they 
assembled  the  following  evening  in  the  pavilion,  and 


LALLA  ROOKH  was  expecting  to  see  all  the  beauties  of 
her  bard  melt  away,  one  by  one,  in  the  acidity  of  criti- 
cism, like  pearls  in  the  cup  of  the  Egyptian  queen,  —  he 
agreeably  disappointed  her,  by  merely  saying,  with  an 
ironical  smile,  that  the  merits  of  such  a  poem  dererved 
to  be  tried  at  a  much  higher  tribunal ;  and  then  suddenly 
passed  off  into  a  panegyric  upon  all  Mussulman  sover- 
eigns, more  particularly  his  august  and  Imperial  master, 
Aurungzebe,  —  the  wisest  and  best  of  the  descendants 
of  Timur,  —  who,  among  other  great  things  he  had  done 
for  mankind,  had  given  to  him,  FADLADEEN,  the  very 
profitable  posts  of  Betel-carrier  and  Taster  of  Sherbets 
to  the  Emperor,  Chief  Holder  of  the  Girdle  of  Beautiful 
Forms,802  and  Grand  Xazir,  or  Chamberlain  of  the  Haram. 

They  were  now  not  far  from  that  Forbidden  River,808 
beyond  which  no  pure  Hindoo  can  pass ;  and  were  repos- 
ing for  a  time  in  the  rich  valley  of  Hussun  Abdaul, 
which  had  always  been  a  favorite  resting-place  of  the 
Emperors  in  their  annual  migrations  to  Cashmere.  Here 
often  had  the  Light  of  the  Faith,  Jehan-Gtiire,  been 
known  to  wander  with  his  beloved  and  beautiful  Nour- 
mahal;  and  here  would  LALLA  ROOKH  have  been  happy 
to  remain  forever,  giving  up  the  throne  of  Bucharia  and 
the  world  for  FKRAMOKZ  and  love  in  this  sweet,  lonely 
valley.  But  the  time  was  now  fast  approaching  when 
she  must  see  him  no  longer, — or,  what  was  still  worse, 
behold  him  with  eyes  whose  every  look  Ix-longed  to 
another;  and  then1  was  a  melancholy  preciousness  in 
these  last  moments,  which  made  her  heart  cling  to  them 
as  it  would  to  life.  During  the  latter  part  of  the  journey, 
indeed,  she  had  sunk  into  a  deep  sadness,  from  which 
nothing  but  the  presence  of  the  young  minstrel  could 
awake  her.  Like  those  lamps  in  tombs,  which  only 
light  up  when  tbe  air  is  admitted,  it  was  only  at  his 


approach  that  her  eyes  became  smiling  and  animated. 
But  here,  in  this  dear  valley,  every  moment  appeared  an 
age  of  pleasure ;  she  saw  him  all  day,  and  was,  there- 
fore, all  day  happy, — resembling,  she  often  thought, 
that  people  of  Zinge,  who  attribute  the  unfading  cheer- 
fulness they  enjoy  to  one  genial  star  that  rises  nightly 
over  their  heads.804 

The  whole  party,  indeed,  seemed  in  their  liveliest 
mood  during  the  few  days  they  passed  in  this  delightful 
solitude.  The  young  attendants  of  the  Princess,  who 
were  here  allowed  a  much  freer  range  than  they  could 
safely  be  indulged  with  in  a  less  sequestered  place, 
ran  wild  among  the  gardens  and  bounded  through  the 
meadows,  lightly  as  young  roes  over  the  aromatic  plains 
of  Tibet.  While  FADLADEEX,  in  addition  to  the  spirit- 
ual comfort  derived  by  him  from  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
tomb  of  the  Saint  from  whom  the  valley  is  named,  had 
also  opportunities  of  indulging,  in  a  small  way,  his  taste 
for  victims,  by  putting  to  death  some  hundreds  of  those 
unfortunate  little  lizards 305  which  all  pious  Mussulmans 
make  it  a  point  to  kill ;  —  taking  for  granted,  that  the 
manner  in  which  the  creature  hangs  its  head  is  meant  as 
a  mimicry  of  the  attitude  in  which  the  Faithful  say  their 

About  two  miles  from  Hussun  Abdaul  were  those 
Koyal  Gardens 806  which  had  grown  beautiful  under  the 
care  of  so  many  lovely  eyes,  and  were  beautiful  still, 
though  those  eyes  could  see  them  no  longer.  This  place, 
with  its  flowers  and  its  holy  silence,  interrupted  only  by 
the  dipping  of  the  wings  of  birds  in  its  marble  basins 
filled  with  the  pure  water  of  those  hills,  was  to  LALLA 
EOOKH  all  that  her  heart  could  fancy  of  fragrance,  cool- 
ness, and  almost  heavenly  tranquillity.  As  the  Prophet 


said  of  Damascus,  "It  was  too  delicious;"807  and  here, 
in  listening  to  the  sweet  voice  of  FERAMOKZ,  or  reading 
in  his  eyes  what  yet  he  never  dared  to  tell  her,  the  most 
exquisite  moments  of  her  whole  life  were  passed.  One 
evening,  when  they  had  been  talking  of  the  Sultana 
Nourmahal,  the  Light  of  the  Haram,808  who  had  so  often 
wandered  among  these  flowers,  and  fed  with  her  own 
hands,  in  those  marble  basins,  the  small  shining  fishes  of 
which  she  was  so  fond,809 — the  youth,  in  order  to  delay 
the  moment  of  separation,  proposed  to  recite  a  short 
story,  or  rather  rhapsody,  of  which  this  adored  Sultana 
was  the  heroine.  It  related,  he  said,  to  the  reconcile- 
ment of  a  sort  of  lovers'  quarrel  which  took  place 
between  her  and  the  Emperor  during  a  Feast  of  Hoses 
at  Cashmere ;  and  would  remind  the  Princess  of  that 
difference  between  Haroun-al-Raschid  and  his  fair  mis- 
tress Marida810  which  was  so  happily  made  up  by  the 
soft  strains  of  the  musician  Moussali.  As  the  story  was 
chiefly  to  be  told  in  song,  and  FEKAMORZ  had  unluckily 
forgotten  his  own  lute  in  the  valley,  he  borrowed  the 
vina  of  LALLA  KOOKH'S  little  Persian  slave,  and  thus 
began : — 


WHO  has  not  heard  of  the  vale  of  CASHMERE, 

With  its  roses  the  brightest  that  earth  ever  gave,311 

Its  temples,  and  grottos,  and  fountains  as  clear 

As  the  love-lighted  eyes  that  hang  over  their  wave  ? 

Oh !  to  see  it  at  sunset,  —  when  warm  o'er  the  Lake 

Its  splendor  at  parting  a  summer  eve  throws, 
Like  a  bride,  full  of  blushes,  when  ling'ring  to  take 

A  last  look  of  her  mirror  at  night  ere  she  goes  !  — 
When  the  shrines  through  the  foliage  are  gleaming 

half  shown, 

And  each  hallows  the  hour  by  some  rites  of  its  own. 
Here  the  music  of  pray'r  from  a  minaret  swells, 

Here   the    Magian    his    urn,    full    of    perfume,   is 

And  here,  at  the  altar,  a  zone  of  sweet  bells 

Round   the   waist   of    some  fair   Indian   dancer  is 


Or  to  see  it  by  moonlight,  —  when  mellowly  shines 
The  light  o'er  its  palaces,  gardens,  and  shrines ; 
When  the  Avater-falls  gleam,  like  a  quick  fall  of  stars, 
And  the  nightingale's  hymn  from  the  Isle  of  Chenars 
Is  broken  by  laughs  and  light  echoes  of  feet 
From  the  cool,  shining  walks  where  the  young  people 

meet.  — 

Or  at  morn,  when  the  magic  of  daylight  awakes 
A  new  wonder  each  minute,  as  slowly  it  breaks, 


Hills,  cupolas,  fountains,  call'd  forth  every  one 
Out  of  darkness,  as  if  but  just  born  of  the  Sun. 
When  the  Spirit  of  Fragrance  is  up  with  the  day, 
From  his  Harain  of  night-flowers  stealing  away  ; 
And  the  wind,  full  of  wantonness,  woos  like  a  lover 
The  young  aspen-trees,818  till  they  tremble  all  over. 
"When  the  East  is  as  warm  as  the  light  of  first  hopes, 

And  Day,  with  his  banner  of  radiance  unfurl'd, 
Shines  in  through  the  mountainous  portal 814  that  opes, 

Sublime,  from  that  Valley  of  bliss  to  the  world ! 

But  never  yet,  by  night  or  day, 
In  dew  of  spring  or  summer's  ray, 
Did  the  sweet  Valley  shine  so  gay 
As  now  it  shines  —  all  love  and  light, 
Visions  by  day  and  feasts  by  night ! 
A  happier  smile  illumes  each  brow, 

With  quicker  spread  each  heart  uncloses, 
And  all  is  ecstasy  —  for  now 

The  Valley  holds  its  Feast  of  Roses  ;816 
The  joyous  Time,  when  pleasures  pour 
Profusely  round,  and,  in  their  shower, 
Hearts  open,  like  the  Season's  Rose,  — 

The  Flow'ret  of  a  hundred  leaves,81* 
Expanding  while  the  dew-fall  flows, 

And  every  leaf  its  balm  receives. 

'Twos  when  the  hour  of  evening  came 

Upon  the  Lake,  serene  and  cool, 
When  Day  had  hid  his  sultry  flame 

Behind  tin-  palms  of  BxRAMOULE,*11 
When  maids  Ix-gan  to  lift  their  heads, 
Hefresh'd  from  their  emhroider'd  Ixxls, 
Where  they  had  slept  the  sun  away, 
And  wak'd  to  moonlight  and  to  play. 


All  were  abroad  —  the  busiest  hive 

On  BELA'S  818  hills  is  less  alive, 

When  saffron-beds  are  full  in  flower, 

Than  look'd  the  Valley  in  that  hour. 

A  thousand  restless  torches  play'd 

Through  every  grove  and  island  shade ; 

A  thousand  sparkling  lamps  were  set 

On  every  dome  and  minaret ; 

And  fields  and  pathways,  far  and  near, 

Were  lighted  by  a  blaze  so  clear, 

That  you  could  see,  in  wandering  round, 

The  smallest  rose-leaf  on  the  ground. 

Yet  did  the  maids  and  matrons  leave 

Their  veils  at  home,  that  brilliant  eve ; 

And  there  were  glancing  eyes  about, 

And  cheeks,  that  would  not  dare  shine  out 

In  open  day,  but  thought  they  might 

Look  lovely  then,  because  'twas  night. 

And  all  were  free,  and  wandering, 

And  all  exclaim'd  to  all  they  met, 
That  never  did  the  summer  bring 

So  gay  a  Feast  of  Koses  yet ;  — 
The  moon  had  never  shed  a  light 

So  clear  as  that  which  bless'd  them  there; 
The  roses  ne'er  shone  half  so  bright, 

Nor  they  themselves  look'd  half  so  fair. 

And  what  a  wilderness  of  flowers ! 
It  seem'd  as  though  from  all  the  bowers 
And  fairest  fields  of  all  the  year, 
The  mingled  spoil  were  scatter'd  here. 
The  Lake,  too,  like  a  garden  breathes, 

With  the  rich  buds  that  o'er  it  lie,  — 
As  if  a  shower  of  fairy  wreaths 

Had  fall'n  upon  it  from  the  sky ! 


And  then  the  sounds  of  joy,  —  the  beat 

Of  tabors  and  of  dancing  feet ;  — 

The  minaret-crier's  chant  of  glee 

Sung  from  his  lighted  gallery,819 

And  answer'd  by  a  ziraleet 

From  neighboring  Haram,  wild  and  sweet ;  — 

The  merry  laughter,  echoing 

From  gardens,  where  the  silken  swing  82° 

Wafts  some  delighted  girl  above 

The  top  leaves  of  the  orange  grove ; 

Or,  from  those  infant  groups  at  play 

Among  the  tents 821  that  line  the  way, 

Flinging,  unaw'd  by  slave  or  mother, 

Handfuls  of  roses  at  each  other.  — 
Then,  the  sounds  from  the  Lake,  the  low  whispering 
in  boats, 

As  they  shoot  through  the  moonlight ;  —  the  dipping 

of  oars, 
A.nd  the  wild,  airy  warbling  that  everywhere  floats, 

Through  the  groves,  round  the  islands,  as  if  all  the 


Like  those  of  KATHAY,  utter'd  music,  and  gave 
An  answer  in  song  to  the  kiss  of  each  wave.8-2 
Hut  the  gentlest  of  all  are  those  sounds,  full  of  feeling, 
That  soft  from  the  lute  of  some  lover  are  stealing, — 
Some  lover,  who  knows  all  the  heart-touching  power 
Of  a  lute  and  a  sigh  in  this  magical  hour. 
Oh  !  best  of  delights  as  it  everywhere  is 
To  l>c  near  the  lov'd  One,  —  what  a  rapture  is  his 
Who  in  moonlight  and  music  thus  sweetly  may  glide 
O'er  the  Lake  of  CASIIMKKK,  with  that  One  by  his  side! 
If  woman  can  make  the  worst  wilderness  dear, 
Think,  think  what  a  Heaven  she  must  make  of  CASH- 

MKKK  ! 

So  felt  the  magnificent  Son  of  A<  u.ut,8:a 


When  from  power  and  pomp  and  the  trophies  of  war 
He  flew  to  that  Valley,  forgetting  them  all 
With  the  Light  of  the  Hararn,  his  young  NOURMAIIAL, 
When  free  and  uncrown'd  as  the  Conqueror  rov'd 
By  the  banks  of  that  Lake,  with  his  only  belov'd, 
He  saw,  in  the  wreaths  she  would  playfully  snatch 
From  the  hedges,  a  glory  his  crown  could  not  match, 
And  preferr'd  in  his  heart  the  least  ringlet  that  curl'd 
Down  her  exquisite  neck  to  the  throne  of  the  world. 

There's  a  beauty,  forever  unchangingly  bright, 
Like  the  long,  sunny  lapse  of  a  summer-day's  light. 
Shining  on,  shining  on,  by  no  shadow  made  tender, 
Till  Love  falls  asleep  in  its  sameness  of  splendor. 
This  was  not  the  beauty  —  oh,  nothing  like  this, 
That  to  young  NOURMAHAL  gave  such  magic  of  bliss  ! 
But  that  loveliness,  ever  in  motion,  which  plays 
Like  the  light  upon  autumn's  soft  shadowy  days, 
Now  here  and  now  there,  giving  warmth  as  it  flies 
From  the  lip  to  the  cheek,  from  the  cheek  to  the  eyes ; 
Now  melting  in  mist  and  now  breaking  in  gleams, 
Like  the  glimpses   a  saint  hath  of  Heav'n  in    his 


When  pensive,  it  seein'd  as  if  that  very  grace, 
That  charm  of  all  others,  was  born  with  her  face ! 
And  when  angry,  —  for  e'en  in  the  tranquillest  climes 
Light  breezes  will  ruffle  the  blossoms  sometimes  — 
The  short,  passing  anger  but  seem'd  to  awaken 
New  beauty,  like  flowers  that  are  sweetest  when  shaken. 
If  tenderness  touch'd  her,  the  dark  of  her  eye 
At  once  took  a  darker,  a  heavenlier  dye, 
From  the  depth  of  whose  shadow,  like  holy  revealings 
From  innermost  shrines,  came  the  light  of  her  feelings. 
Then  her  mirth  —  oh  !  'twas  sportive  as  ever  took  wing 
From  the  heart  with  a  burst,  like  the  wild-bird  in  spring ; 


Illum'd  by  a  wit  that  would  fascinate  sages, 
Yet  playful  as  Peris  just  loos'd  from  their  cages.824 
While  her  laugh,  full  of  life,  without  any  control 
P>ut  the  sweet  one  of  gracefulness,  rung  from  her  soul ; 
And  where  it  most  sparkled  no  glance  could  discover, 
In  lip,  cheek,  or  eyes,  for  she  brighten' d  all  over,  — 
Like  any  fair  lake  that  the  breeze  is  upon, 
When  it  breaks  into  dimples  and  laughs  in  the  sun. 
Such,  such  were  the  peerless  enchantments  that  gave 
NOURMAHAL  the  proud  Lord  of  the  East  for  her  slave : 
And  though  bright  was  his  Haram,  —  a  living  parterre 
Of  the   flowers826   of  this  planet  —  though  treasures 

were  there, 
For  which  SOLIMAN'S  self  might  have  giv'n  all  the 


That  the  navy  from  OPHIR  e'er  wing'dto  his  shore, 
Yet  dim  before  her  were  the  smiles  of  them  all, 
And  the  Light  of  his  Haram  was  young  NOURMAIIAL  ! 

But  where  is  she  now,  this  night  of  joy, 
When  bliss  is  every  heart's  employ  ?  — 

When  all  around  her  is  so  bright, 
So  like  the  visions  of  a  trance, 
That  one  might  think,  who  came  by  chance 

Into  the  Vale  this  happy  night, 

He  saw  that  City  of  Delight829 
In  Fairy-land  whose  streets  and  towers 
Are  made  of  gems  and  light  and  flowers  !  — 
Where  is  the  lov'd  Sultana  '.'  where. 
When  mirth  brings  out  the  young  and  fair, 
Dws  she,  the  fairest,  hide  her  brow, 
In  melancholy  stillness  now  ? 
Alas!  —  how  light  a  cause  may  move 
Dissension  between  hearts  that  love  ! 
Hearts  that  the  world  in  vain  had  tried, 


And  sorrow  but  more  closely  tied ; 

That  stood  the  storm,  when  waves  were  rough, 

Yet  in  a  sunny  hour  fall  off, 

Like  ships  that  have  gone  down  at  sea, 

When  heaven  was  all  tranquillity  ! 

A  something,  light  as  air  —  a  look, 

A  word  unkind  or  wrongly  taken  — 
Oh  !  love,  that  tempests  never  shook, 

A  breath,  a  touch  like  this  hath  shaken. 
And  ruder  words  will  soon  rush  in 
To  spread  the  breach  that  words  begin ; 
And  eyes  forget  the  gentle  ray 
They  wore  in  courtship's  smiling  day ; 
And  voices  lose  the  tone  that  shed 
A  tenderness  round  all  they  said; 
Till  fast  declining,  one  by  one, 
The  sweetnesses  of  love  are  gone, 
And  hearts,  so  lately  mingled,  seem 
Like  broken  clouds,  —  or  like  the  stream, 
That  smiling  left  the  mountain's  brow 

As  though  its  waters  ne'er  could  sever, 
Yet,  ere  it  reach  the  plain  below, 

Breaks  into  floods,  that  part  forever. 
Oh,  you,  that  have  the  charge  of  Love, 

Keep  him  in  rosy  bondage  bound, 
As  in  the  Fields  of  Bliss  above 

He  sits,  with  flow'rets  fetter'd  round ; 827 
Loose  not  a  tie  that  round  him  clings, 
Nor  ever  let  him  use  his  wings ; 
For  e'en  an  hour,  a  minute's  flight 
Will  rob  the  plumes  of  half  their  light : 
Like  that  celestial  bird,  —  whose  nest 

Is  found  beneath  far  Eastern  skies,  — 
Whose  wings,  though  radiant  when  at  rest, 

Lose  all  their  glory  when  he  flies  1 828 


Some  difference,  of  this  dangerous  kind,  — 

By  which,  though  light,  the  links  that  bind 

The  fondest  hearts  may  soon  be  riven ; 

Some  shadow  in  Love's  summer  heaven, 

Which,  though  a  fleecy  speck  at  first, 

May  yet  in  awful  thunder  burst ;  — 

Such  cloud  it  is  that  now  hangs  over 

The  heart  of  the  Imperial  Lover, 

And  far  hath  banish'd  from  his  sight 

His  NOURMAHAL,  his  Haram's  Light ! 

Hence  is  it,  on  this  happy  night, 

When  Pleasure  through  the  fields  and  groves 

Has  let  loose  all  her  world  of  loves, 

And  every  heart  has  found  its  own, 

He  wanders,  joyless  and  alone, 

And  weary  as  that  bird  of  Thrace 

Whose  pinion  knows  no  resting-place.829 

In  vain  the  loveliest  cheeks  and  syes 

This  Eden  of  the  Earth  supplies 

Come  crowding  round  —  the  cheeks  are  pale, 
The  eyes  are  dim :  —  though  rich  the  spot 
With  every  flow'r  this  earth  has  got, 

What  is  it  to  the  nightingale, 
If  there  his  darling  rose  is  not?880 
In  vain  the  Valley's  smiling  throng 
Worship  him,  as  he  moves  along  ; 
Hi-  heeds  them  not  —  one  smile  of  hers 
Is  worth  a  world  of  worshippers. 
They  but  the  Star's  adorers  are, 
She  i.s  the  Heav'n  that  lights  the  Star  I 

Hence  is  it,  too,  that  NoURMAHAL, 

Amid  the  luxuries  of  this  hour, 
Far  from  the  joyous  festival, 

Sits  in  her  own  sequester'd  l>ower, 

210  LALLA   ROOKH. 

With  no  one  near,  to  soothe  or  aid, 
But  that  inspir'd  and  wondrous  maid, 
NAMOUNA,  the  Ench?   -ress ;  —  one, 
O'er  whom  his  race  tne  golden  sun 
For  unremember'd  years  has  run, 
Yet  never  saw  her  blooming  brow 
Younger  or  fairer  than  'tis  now. 
Nay,  rather,  —  as  the  west  wind's  sigh 
Freshens  the  flower  it  passes  by,  — 
Time's  wing  but  seem'd,  in  stealing  o'er, 
To  leave  her  lovelier  than  before. 
Yet  on  her  smiles  a  sadness  hung, 
And  when,  as  oft,  she  spoke  or  sung 
Of  other  worlds,  there  came  a  light 
From  her  dark  eyes  so  strangely  bright, 
That  all  believ'd  nor  man  nor  earth 
Were  conscious  of  NAMOUXA'S  birth ! 
All  spells  and  talismans  she  knew, 

From  the  great  Mantra,881  which  ai-ound 
The  Air's  sublimer  Spirits  drew, 

To  the  gold  gems 832  of  AFRIC,  bound 
Upon  the  wandering  Arab's  arm, 
To  keep  him  from  the  Siltim's 888  harm. 
And  she  had  pledg'd  her  powerful  art,  — 
Pledg'd  it  with  all  the  zeal  and  heart 
Of  one  who  knew,  though  high  her  sphere, 
What  'twas  to  lose  a  love  so  dear,  — 
To  find  some  spell  that  should  recall 
Her  Selim's  834  smile  to  NOURMAHAL  ! 

'Twas  midnight — through  the  lattice,  wreath'd 
With  woodbine,  many  a  perfume  breath'd 
From  plants  that  wake  when  others  sleep, 
From  timid  jasmine  buds,  that  keep 
Their  odor  to  themselves  all  day, 


But,  when  the  sun-light  dies  away, 
Let  the  delicious  secret  out 
To  every  breeze  that  roams  about ;  — 
When  thus  NAMOUNA  :  —  "  Tis  the  hour 
That  scatters  spells  on  herb  and  flower, 
And  garlands  might  be  gather'd  now, 
That,  twin'd  around  the  sleeper's  brow, 
Would  make  him  dream  of  such  delights, 
Such  miracles  and  dazzling  sights, 
As  Genii  of  the  Sun  behold, 
At  evening,  from  their  tents  of  gold, 
Upon  the  horizon  —  where  they  play 
Till  twilight  comes,  and,  ray  by  ray, 
Their  sunny  mansions  melt  away. 
Now,  too,  a  chaplet  might  be  wreath'd 
Of  buds  o'er  which  the  moon  has  breath'd, 
Which  worn  by  her,  whose  love  has  stray'd, 

Might  bring  some  Peri  from  the  skies, 
Some  sprite,  whose  very  soul  is  made 

Of  flow'rets'  breaths  and  lovers'  sighs, 

And  who  might  tell " 

"For  me,  for  me," 
Cried  NOURMAHAL  impatiently, — 
"Oh  !  twine  that  wreath  for  me  to-night." 
Then,  rapidly,  witli  foot  as  light 
As  the  young  musk-roe's,  out  she  flew, 
To  cull  each  shining  leaf  that  grew 
Beneath  the  moonlight's  hallowing  beams, 
For  this  enchanted  Wreath  of  Dreams. 
Anemones  and  Seas  of  Gold,886 

And  new-blown  lilies  of  the  river, 
And  those  sweet  flow'rets  that  unfold 

Their  buds  on  CAMADEVA'S  quiver;*8* 
The  tuberose,  with  her  silvery  light, 

That  in  the  Gardens  of  Malay 


Is  call'd  the  Mistress  of  the  Night,887 
So  like  a  bride,  scented  and  bright, 

She  comes  out  when  the  sun's  away ;  — 
Amaranths,  such  as  crown  the  maids 
That  wander  through  ZAMARA'S  shades ; 888  — 
And  the  white  moon-flower,  as  it  shows, 
On  SEREXDIB'S  high  crags,  to  those 
Who  near  the  isle  at  evening  sail, 
Scenting  her  clove-trees  in  the  gale ; 
In  short,  all  flow'rets  and  all  plants, 

From  the  divine  Ainrita  tree,389 
That  blesses  heaven's  inhabitants 

With  fruits  of  immortality, 
Down  to  the  basil  tuft,840  that  waves 
Its  fragrant  blossom  over  graves, 

And  to  the  humble  rosemary, 
Whose  sweets  so  thanklessly  are  shed 
To  scent  the  desert 841  and  the  dead :  — 
All  in  that  garden  bloom,  and  all 
Are  gather'd  by  young  NOURMAHA.L, 
Who  heaps  her  baskets  with  the  flowers 

And  leaves,  till  they  can  hold  no  more ; 
Then  to  KAMOUXA  flies,  and  showers 

Upon  her  lap  the  shining  store, 

With  what  delight  the  Enchantress  views 

So  many  buds,  bath'd  with  the  dews 

And  beams  of  that  bless'd  hour !  —  her  glance 

Spoke  something,  past  all  mortal  pleasures. 
As,  in  a  kind  of  holy  trance, 

She  hung  above  those  fragrant  treasures, 
Bending  to  drink  their  balmy  airs, 
As  if  she  mix'd  her  soul  with  theirs. 
And  'twas,  indeed,  the  perfume  shed 
From  flow'rs  and  scented  flame,  that  fed 


Her  charmed  life  —  for  none  had  e'er 
Beheld  her  taste  of  mortal  fare, 
Nor  ever  in  aught  earthly  dip, 
But  the  morn's  dew,  her  roseate  lip. 
Fill'd  with  the  cool,  inspiring  smell, 
The  Enchantress  now  begins  her  spell, 
Thus  singing  as  she  winds  and  weaves 
In  mystic  form  the  glittering  leaves :  — 

I  know  where  the  wing'd  visions  dwell 

That  around  the  night-bed  play ; 
I  know  each  herb  and  flow'ret's  bell, 
Where  they  hide  their  wings  by  day. 
Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid, 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 

The  image  of  love,  that  nightly  flies 

To  visit  the  bashful  maid, 
Steals  from  the  jasmine  flower,  that  sighs 

Its  soul,  like  her,  in  the  shade. 
The  dream  of  a  future,  happier  hour, 

That  alights  on  misery's  brow, 
Springs  out  of  the  silvery  almond-flower, 

That  blooms  on  a  leafless  lM>ugh.Ma 
Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid, 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 

The  visions,  that  oft  to  worldly  eyes 

The  glittt-r  of  mines  unfold, 
Inhabit  tin*  mountain-herb,*41  that  dyes 

The  tooth  of  the  fawn  like  gold. 

214  LALLA  11OOKIL 

The  phantom  shapes  —  oh  touch  not  them  I  — 

That  appal  the  murderer's  sight, 
Lurk  in  the  fleshly  mandrake's  stem, 
That  shrieks,  when  pluck'd  at  night  I 
Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid, 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 

The  dream  of  the  injur'd,  patient  mind, 

That  smiles  at  the  wrongs  of  men, 
Is  found  in  the  bruis'd  and  wounded  rind 
Of  the  cinnamon,  sweetest  then. 
Then  hasten  we,  maid, 
To  twine  our  braid, 
To-morrow  the  dreams  and  flowers  will  fade. 

No  sooner  was  the  flowery  crown 

Plac'd  on  her  head,  than  sleep  came  down, 

Gently  as  nights  of  summer  fall, 

Upon  the  lids  of  NOURMAHAL  ;  — 

And,  suddenly,  a  tuneful  breeze, 

As  full  of  small,  rich  harmonies 

As  ever  wind,  that  o'er  the  tents 

Of  AzAB344  blew,  was  full  of  scents, 

Steals  on  her  ear,  and  floats  and  swells, 

Like  the  first  air  of  morning  creeping 
Into  those  wreathy,  Ked-Sea  shells, 

Where  Love  himself,  of  old,  lay  sleeping ;  *46 
And  now  a  Spirit  form'd,  'twould  seem, 

Of  music  and  of  light,  —  so  fair, 
So  brilliantly  his  features  beam, 

And  such  a  sound  is  in  the  air 
Of  sweetness  when  he  waves  his  wings,  — 
Hovers  around  her,  and  thus  sings :  — 


From  CHINDARA'S  848  warbling  fount  I  come, 

Call'd  by  that  moonlight  garland's  spell ; 
From  CHINDARA'S  fount,  my  fairy  home, 

Where  in  music,  morn  and  night,  I  dwell : 
Where  lutes  in  the  air  are  heard  about, 

And  voices  are  singing  the  whole  day  long, 
And  every  sigh  the  heart  breathes  out 
Is  turn'd,  as  it  leaves  the  lips,  to  song ! 
Hither  I  come 
From  my  fairy  home  ; 
And  if  there's  a  magic  in  Music's  strain, 
I  swear  by  the  breath 
Of  that  moonlight  wreath, 
Thy  Lover  shall  sigh  at  thy  feet  again. 

For  mine  is  the  lay  that  lightly  floats, 
And  mine  are  the  murmuring,  dying  notes, 
That  fall  as  soft  as  snow  on  the  sea, 
And  melt  in  the  heart  as  instantly  :  — 
And  the  passionate  strain  that,  deeply  going, 

Refines  the  bosom  it  trembles  through, 
As  the  musk-wind,  over  the  water  blowing, 

Ruffles  the  wave,  but  sweetens  it  too. 

Mine  is  the  charm,  whose  mystic  sway 
The  Spirits  of  past  Delight  obey; 
Let  but  the  tuneful  talisman  sound, 
And  they  come,  like  Genii,  hovering  round. 
And  mine  is  the  gentle  song  that  bears 

From  soul  to  soul,  the  wishes  of  love, 
As  a  bird,  that  wafts  through  genial  airs 

The  cinnamon-seed  from  grove  to  grove.141 

'Tis  I  that  mingle  in  one  sweet  measure 

The  past,  the  present,  and  future  of  pleasure ;  *** 

216  LALLA   ROOKH. 

When  Memory  links  the  tone  that  is  gone 
With  the  blissful  tone  that's  still  in  the  ear ; 

And  Hope  from  a  heavenly  note  flies  on 
To  a  note  more  heavenly  still  that  is  near. 

The  warrior's  heart,  when  touch'd  by  me, 
Can  as  downy  soft  and  as  yielding  be 
As  his  own  white  plume,  that  high  amid  death 
Through  the  field  has  shone  — yet  moves  with  a 

breath ! 
And  oh !  how  the  eyes  of  Beauty  glisten, 

When  Music  has  reach'd  her  inward  soul, 
Like  the  silent  stars,  that  wink  and  listen 
While  Heaven's  eternal  melodies  roll. 
So,  hither  I  come 
From  my  fairy  home ; 
And  if  there's  a  magic  in  Music's  strain, 
I  swear  by  the  breath 
Of  that  moonlight  wreath, 
Thy  Lover  shall  sigh  at  thy  feet  again. 

'Tis  dawn  —  at  least  that  earlier  dawn, 
Whose  glimpses  are  again  withdrawn,8*9 
As  if  the  morn  had  wak'd,  and  then 
Shut  close  her  lids  of  light  again. 
And  NOURMAHAL  is  up  and  trying 

The  wonders  of  her  lute,  whose  strings  — 
Oh,  bliss  !  —  now  murmur  like  the  sighing 

From  that  ambrosial  Spirit's  wings. 
And  then,  her  voice  —  'tis  more  than  human  — 

Never,  till  now,  had  it  been  given 
To  lips  of  any  mortal  woman 

To  utter  notes  so  fresh  from  heaven; 
Sweet  as  the  breath  of  angel  sighs, 


When  angel  sighs  are  most  divine.  — 
"  Oh !  let  it  last  till  night,"  she  cries, 

"  And  he  is  more  than  ever  mine." 
And  hourly  she  renews  the  lay, 

So  fearful  lest  its  heavenly  sweetness 
Should,  ere  the  evening,  fade  away,  — 

For  things  so  heavenly  have  such  fleetnese ! 
But,  far  from  fading,  it  but  grows 
Richer,  diviner  as  it  flows ; 
Till  rapt  she  dwells  on  every  string, 

And  pours  again  each  sound  along, 
Like  echo,  lost  and  languishing, 

In  love  with  her  own  wondrous  song. 

That  evening,  (trusting  that  his  soul 

Might  be  from  haunting  love  releas'd 
By  mirth,  by  music,  and  the  bowl,) 

The  Imperial  SELIM  held  a  feast 
In  his  magnificent  Shalimar :  85°  — 
In  whose  Saloons,  when  the  first  star 
Of  evening  o'er  the  waters  trembled, 
The  Valley's  loveliest  all  assembled ; 
All  the  bright  creatures  that,  like  dreams, 
Glide  through  its  foliage,  and  drink  beams 
Of  l>eauty  from  its  founts  and  streams;851 
And  all  those  wandering  minstrel-maids, 
Who  leave  —  how  can  they  leave  ?  —  the  shades 
Of  that  dear  Valley,  and  are  found 

Singing  in  (iardens  of  the  South852 
Those  songs,  that  ne'er  so  sweetly  sound 

As  from  a  young  Cashmerian's  mouth. 
There,  too,  the  Haram's  inmates  smile;  — 

Maids  from  the  West,  with  sun-bright  hair, 
And  from  the  Garden  of  the  NILE, 

Delicate  as  the  roses  there ;  ***  — 


Daughters  of  Love  from  CYPRUS'  rocks, 
With  Paphian  diamonds  in  their  locks ; 854  — 
Light  PERI  forms,  such  as  there  are 
On  the  gold  meads  of  CANDAHAR  ; 855 
And  they,  before  whose  sleepy  eyes, 

In  their  own  bright  Kathaian  bowers, 
Sparkle  such  rainbow  butterflies, 

That  they  might  fancy  the  rich  flowers, 
That  round  them  in  the  sun  lay  sighing, 
Had  been  by  magic  all  set  flying.856 

Everything  young,  everything  fair 
From  East  and  West  is  blushing  there, 
Except  —  except —  oh,  NOURMAHAL  ! 
Thou  loveliest,  dearest  of  them  all, 
The  one  whose  smile  shone  out  alone, 
Amidst  a  world  the  only  one  ; 
Whose  light,  among  so  many  lights, 
Was  like  that  star  on  starry  nights, 
The  seaman  singles  from  the  sky, 
To  steer  his  bark  forever  by ! 
Thou  wert  not  there  —  so  SELIM  thought, 

And  everything  seem'd  drear  without  thee ; 
But  ah !  thou  wert,  thou  wert,  —  and  brought 

Thy  charm  of  song  all  fresh  about  thee. 
Mingling  unnoticed  Avith  a  band 
Of  lutanists  from  many  a  land, 
And  veil'd  by  such  a  mask  as  shades 
The  features  of  young  Arab  maids,857  — 
A  mask  that  leaves  but  one  eye  free, 
To  do  its  best  in  witchery,  — 
She  rov'd,  with  beating  heart,  around, 

And  waited,  trembling,  for  the  minute, 
When  she  might  try  if  still  the  sound 

Of  her  lov'd  lute  had  magic  in  it. 


The  board  was  spread  with  fruits  and  wine ; 
With  grapes  of  gold,  like  those  that  shine 
On  CASEIN'S  hills;  M8 —  pomegranates  full 

Of  melting  sweetness,  and  the  pears, 
And  sunniest  apples 869  that  CAUBUL 

In  all  its  thousand  gardens860  bears;  — 
Plantains,  the  golden  and  the  green, 
MALAYA'S  nectar'd  mangusteen;  M1 
Prunes  of  BOKARA,  and  sweet  nuts 

From  the  far  groves  of  SAMARCAND, 
And  BASRA  dates,  and  apricots, 

Seed  of  the  Sun,862  from  IRAN'S  land ;  — 
With  rich  conserve  of  Visna  cherries,86* 
Of  orange  flowers,  and  of  those  berries 
That,  wild  and  fresh,  the  young  gazelles 
Feed  on  in  ERAC'S  rocky  dells.864 
All  these  in  richest  vases  smile, 

In  baskets  of  pure  santal-wood, 
And  urns  of  porcelain  from  that  isle  8M 

Sunk  underneath  the  Indian  flood, 
Whence  oft  the  lucky  diver  brings 
Vases  to  grace  the  halls  of  kings. 
Wines,  too,  of  every  clime  and  hue, 
Around  their  liquid  lustre  threw  ; 
AnilxT  Rosolli,86* —  the  bright  dew 
From  vineyards  of  the  Green-Sea  gushing;187 
And  SHIRAZ  wine,  that  richly  ran 

As  if  that  jewel,  large  and  rare, 
The  ruby  for  which  Krui.Ai-KiiAX 
Offer'd  a  city's  wealth,868  was  blushing 

Melted  within  the  goblets  there ! 

And  amply  SK.I.IM  quaffs  of  each, 

And  seems  resulv'd  the  flood  shall  reach 

His  inward  heart,  —  shedding  around 


A  genial  deluge,  as  they  run, 
That  soon  shall  leave  no  spot  undrown'd, 

lor  Love  to  rest  his  wings  upon. 
He  little  knew  how  well  the  boy 

Can  float  upon  a  goblet's  streams, 
Lighting  them  with  his  smile  of  joy;  — 

As  bards  have  seen  him  in  their  dreams, 
Down  the  blue  GANGES  laughing  glide 

Upon  a  rosy  lotus  wreath,369 
Catching  new  lustre  from  the  tide 

That  with  his  image  shone  beneath. 

But  what  are  cups,  without  the  aid 

Of  song  to  speed  them  as  they  flow  ? 
And  see  —  a  lovely  Georgian  maid, 

With  all  the  bloom,  the  freshen'd  glow 
Of  her  own  country  maidens'  looks, 
When  warm  they  rise  from  TEFLIS'  brooks ;  87° 
And  with  an  eye,  whose  restless  ray, 

Full,  floating,  dark  —  oh,  he,  who  knows 
His  heart  is  weak,  of  Heaven  should  pray 

To  guard  him  from  such  eyes  as  those !  — 
With  a  voluptuous  wildness  flings 
Her  snowy  hand  across  the  strings 
Of  a  syrinda,871  and  thus  sings :  — 

Come  hither,  come  hither  —  by  night  and  by  day, 
We  linger  in  pleasures  that  never  are  gone ; 

Like  the  waves  of  the  summer,  as  one  dies  away, 
Another  as  sweet  and  as  shining  comes  on. 

And  the  love  that  is  o'er,  in  expiring,  gives  birth 
To  a  new  one  as  warm,  as  unequall'd  in  bliss ; 

And,  oh !  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this.872 


Here  maidens  are  sighing,  and  fragrant  their  sigh 

As  the  flower  of  the  Amra  just  op'd  by  a  bee  ; 878 
And  precious  their  tears  as  that  rain  from  the  sky,874 

Which  turns  into  pearls  as  it  falls  in  the  sea. 
Oh!    think  what  the   kiss  and  the   smile   must    be 


When  the  sigh  and  the  tear  are  so  perfect  in  bliss, 
And  own  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this. 

Here  sparkles  the  nectar,  that,  hallow'd  by  love, 
Could  draw  down  those  angels  of  old  from  their 


Who  for  wine  of  this  earth  876  left  the  fountains  above, 
And  forgot  heaven's  stars  for  the  eyes  we  have  here. 
And,  bless'd  with  the  odor  our  goblet  gives  forth, 

What  Spirit  the  sweets  of  his  Eden  would  miss  ? 
For,  oh !  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this. 

The  Georgian's  song  was  scarcely  mute, 

When  the  same  measure,  sound  for  sound, 
Was  caught  up  by  another  lute, 

And  so  divinely  breathed  around, 
That  all  stood  hush'd  and  wondering, 

And  turn'd  and  look'd  into  the  air, 
As  if  they  thought  to  see  the  wing 

Of  IsKAKii.,876  the  Angel,  there;  — 
So  powerfully  on  every  soul 
That  new,  enchanted  measure  stole. 
While  now  a  voice,  sweet  as  the  noto 
Of  the  rharmM  lute,  was  heard  to  float 
Along  its  chords,  and  so  entwine 

Its  sounds  with  theirs,  that  none  knew  whether 


The  voice  or  lute  was  most  divine, 

So  wondrously  they  went  together :  — 

There's  a  bliss  beyond  all  that  the  minstrel  has  told, 
When  two,  that  are  link'd  in  one  heavenly  tie, 

With  heart  never  changing,  and  brow  never  cold, 
Love  on  through  all  ills,  and  love  on  till  they  die ! 

One  hour  of  a  passion  so  sacred  is  worth 

Whole  ages  of  heartless  and  wandering  bliss ; 

And,  oh !  if  there  be  an  Elysium  on  earth, 
It  is  this,  it  is  this. 

'Twas  not  the  air,  'twas  not  the  words, 
But  that  deep  magic  in  the  chords 
And  in  the  lips,  that  gave  such  power 
As  Music  knew  not  till  that  hour. 
At  once  a  hundred  voices  said, 
"  It  is  the  mask'd  Arabian  maid ! " 
While  SELIM,  who  had  felt  the  strain 
Deepest  of  any,  and  had  lain 
Some  minutes  rapt,  as  in  a  trance, 

After  the  fairy  sounds  were  o'er, 
Too  inly  touch'd  for  utterance, 

Now  motion'd  with  his  hand  for  more :  — 

Fly  to  the  desert,  fly  with  me, 
Our  Arab  tents  are  rude  for  thee ; 
But,  oh !  the  choice  what  heart  can  doubt, 
Of  tents  with  love,  or  thrones  without  ? 


Our  rocks  are  rough^Dut  smiling  there 
The  acacia  waves  her  yellow  hair, 
Lonely  and  sweet,  nor  lov'd  the  less 
For  flowering  in  a  wilderness. 

Our  sands  are  bare,  but  down  their  slope 
The  silvery-footed  antelope 
As  gracefully  and  gayly  springs 
As  o'er  the  marble  courts  of  kings. 

Then  come  —  thy  Arab  maid  will  be 
The  lov'd  and  lone  acacia-tree, 
The  antelope,  whose  feet  shall  bless 
With  their  light  sound  thy  loneliness. 

Oh  !  there  are  looks  and  tones  that  dart 
An  instant  sunshine  through  the  heart,  — 
As  it'  the  soul  that  minute  caught 
Some  treasure  it  through  life  had  sought ; 

As  if  the  very  lips  and  eyes, 
Predestin'd  to  have  all  our  sighs, 
And  never  be  forgot  again, 
Sparkled  and  spoke  before  us  then! 

So  came  thy  every  glance  and  tone, 
When  first  on  me  they  breathed  and  shone ; 
New,  as  if  brought  from  other  spheres, 
Yet  welcome  as  if  loved  for  years. 

Then  fly  with  mo,  —  if  thou  hast  known 
No  other  flame,  nor  falsely  thrown 
A  gem  away,  that  thou  hadst  sworn 
Should  ever  in  thv  heart  be  worn. 


Come,  if  the  love  thou  hast  for  me 
Is  pure  and  fresh  as  mine  for  thee,  — 
Fresh  as  the  fountain  under  ground, 
When  first  'tis  by  the  lapwing  found.877 

But  if  for  me  thou  dost  forsake 
Some  other  maid,  and  rudely  break 
Her  worshipp'd  image  from  its  base, 
To  give  to  me  the  ruin'd  place ;  — 

Then,  fare  thee  well  —  I'd  rather  make 
My  bower  upon  some  icy  lake 
When  thawing  suns  begin  to  shine, 
Than  trust  to  love  so  false  as  thine  1 

There  was  a  pathos  in  this  lay, 

That,  e'en  without  enchantment's  art, 
Would  instantly  have  found  its  way 

Deep  into  SELIM'S  burning  heart ; 
But,  breathing,  as  it  did,  a  tone 
To  earthly  lutes  and  lips  unknown, 
With  every  chord  fresh  from  the  touch 
Of  Music's  Spirit,  —  'twas  too  much ! 
Starting,  he  dash'd  away  the  cup,  — 

Which,  all  the  time  of  this  sweet  air, 
His  hand  had  held,  untasted,  up, 

As  if  'twere  fix'd  by  magic  there,  — 
And  naming  her,  so  long  unnam'd, 
So  long  unseen,  wildly  exclaim'd, 

Hadst  thou  but  sung  this  witching  strain, 
I  could  forget  —  forgive  thee  all, 

And  never  leave  those  eyes  again." 


The  mask  is  off  —  the  charm  is  wrought  — 
And  SELIM  to  his  heart  has  caught, 
In  blushes,  more  than  ever  bright, 
His  XOUKMAHAL,  his  Harain's  Light ! 
And  well  do  vanish'd  frowns  enhance 
The  charm  of  every  brighten'd  glance; 
And  dearer  seems  each  dawning  smile 
For  having  lost  its  light  awhile  : 
And,  happier  now  for  all  her  sighs, 

As  on  his  arm  her  head  reposes, 
She  whispers  him  with  laughing  eyes, 

"  Beinember,  love,  the  Feast  of  Roses  !  * 


FADLADEEN,  at  the  conclusion  of  this  light  rhapsody, 
took  occasion  to  sum  up  his  opinion  of  the  young  Cash- 
meriaii's  poetry,  —  of  which,  he  trusted,  they  had  that 
evening  heard  the  last.  Having  recapitulated  the  epi- 
thets "  frivolous  "  —  "  inharmonious  "  —  "  nonsensical," 
he  proceeded  to  say  that,  viewing  it  in  the  most  favor- 
able light,  it  resembled  one  of  those  Maldivian  boats  to 
which  the  Princess  had  alluded  in  the  relation  of  her 
dream,378  —  a  slight,  gilded  thing,  sent  adrift  without 
rudder  or  ballast,  and  with  nothing  but  vapid  sweets  and 
faded  flowers  on  board.  The  profusion,  indeed,  of 
flowers  and  birds  which  this  poet  had  ready  on  all  occa- 
sions, —  not  to  mention  dews,  gems,  etc.,  —  was  a  most 
oppressive  kind  of  opulence  to  his  hearers ;  and  had  the 
unlucky  effect  of  giving  to  his  style  all  the  glitter  of 
the  flower-garden  without  its  method,  and  all  the  flutter 
of  the  aviary  without  its  song.  In  addition  to  this,  he 
chose  his  subjects  badly,  and  was  always  most  inspired 
by  the  worst  parts  of  them.  The  charms  of  paganism, 
the  merits  of  rebellion,  —  these  were  the  themes  honored 
with  his  particular  enthusiasm ;  and,  in  the  poem  just 
recited,  one  of  his  most  palatable  passages  was  in  praise 
of  that  beverage  of  the  Unfaithful,  wine  ;  —  "  being,  per- 
haps," said  he,  relaxing  into  a  smile,  as  conscious  of  his 
own  character  in  the  Haram  on  this  point,  "  one  of  those 
bards  whose  fancy  owes  all  its  illumination  to  the  grape, 
like  that  painted  porcelain,879  so  curious  and  so  rare, 
whose  images  are  only  visible  when  liquor  is  poured  into 
it."  Upon  the  whole,  it  was  his  opinion,  from  the  spec- 
imens which  they  had  heard,  and  which,  he  begged  to 
say,  were  the  most  tiresome  part  of  the  journey,  that  — • 


whatever  other  merits  this  well-dressed  young  gentleman 
might  possess  —  poetry  was  by  no  means  his  proper  avo- 
cation: "and  indeed,"  continued  the  critic,  "from  his 
fondness  for  flowers  and  for  birds,  I  would  venture  to 
suggest  that  a  florist  or  a  bird-catcher  is  a  much  more 
suitable  calling  for  him  than  a  poet." 

They  had  now  begun  to  ascend  those  barren  mountains 
which  separate  Cashmere  from  the  rest  of  India ;  and  as 
the  heats  were  intolerable,  and  the  time  of  their  encamp- 
ments limited  to  the  few  hours  necessary  for  refresh- 
ment and  repose,  there  \vas  an  end  to  all  their  delightful 
evenings,  and  LALLA  ROOKII  saw  no  more  of  FERAMORZ. 
She  now  felt  that  her  short  dream  of  happiness  was  over, 
and  that  she  had  nothing  but  the  recollection  of  its  few 
blissful  hours,  like  the  one  draught  of  sweet  water  that 
serves  the  camel  across  the  wilderness,  tp  be  her  heart's 
refreshment  during  the  dreary  waste  of  life  that  was 
before  her.  The  blight  that  had  fallen  upon  her  spirits 
soon  found  its  way  to  her  cheek,  and  her  ladies  saw  with 
regret  —  though  not  without  some  suspicion  of  the  cause 
—  that  the  beauty  of  their  mistress,  of  which  they  were 
almost  as  proud  as  of  their  own,  was  fast  vanishing 
away  at  the  very  moment  of  all  when  she  had  most  need 
of  it.  What  must  the  King  of  Bueharia  feel,  when, 
instead  of  the  lively  and  beautiful  LALLA  ROOKH.  whom 
the  poets  of  Delhi  had  described  as  more  perfect  than 
the  divinest  images  in  the  house  of  A/ou,8M>  lie  should 
receive  a  pale  and  inanimate  victim,  upon  whose  cheek 
neither  health  nor  pleasure  bloomed,  and  from  whose, 
eyes  Love  had  fled,  —  to  hide  himself  in  her  heart  '.' 

If  anything  could  have  charmed  away  the  melancholy 
of  her  spirits,  it  would  have  been  the  fresh  airs  and  en- 
chanting scenery  of  that  Valley  which  the  IVrsians  so 
justly  called  the  Unequalled.*11  I'ut  neither  the  coolness 
of  its  atmosphere,  so  luxurious  after  toiling  up  those 


bare  and  burning  mountains,  —  neither  the  splendor  of 
the  minarets  and  pagodas  that  shone  out  from  the 
depth  of  its  woods,  nor  the  grottos,  hermitages,  and 
miraculous  fountains 882  which  make  every  spot  of  that 
region  holy  ground,  —  neither  the  countless  water-falls 
that  rush  into  the  Valley  from  all  those  high  and  roman- 
tic mountains  that  encircle  it,  nor  the  fair  city  on  the 
Lake,  whose  houses,  roofed  with  flowers,388  appeared  at  a 
distance  like  one  vast  and  variegated  parterre  ;  —  not  all 
these  wonders  and  glories  of  the  most  lovely  country 
iinder  the  sun  could  steal  her  heart  for  a  minute  from 
those  sad  thoughts,  which  but  darkened  and  grew  bitterer 
every  step  she  advanced. 

The  gay  pomps  and  processions  that  met  her  upon  her 
entrance  into  the  Valley,  and  the  magnificence  with 
which  the  roads  all  along  were  decorated,  did  honor  to 
the  taste  and  gallantry  of  the  young  King.  It  was  night 
when  they  approached  the  city,  and,  for  the  last  two 
miles,  they  had  passed  under  arches,  thrown  from  hedge 
to  hedge,  festooned  with  only  those  rarest  roses  from 
which  the  Attar  Gul,  more  precious  than  gold,  is  dis- 
tilled, and  illuminated  in  rich  and  fanciful  forms  with 
lanterns  of  the  triple-colored  tortoise-shell  of  Pegu.884 
Sometimes,  from  a  dark  wood  by  the  side  of  the  road,  a 
display  of  fireworks  would  break  out,  so  sudden  and  so 
brilliant,  that  a  Brahmin  might  fancy  he  beheld  that 
grove  in  whose  purple  shade  the  God  of  Battles  was 
born,  bursting  into  a  flame  at  the  moment  of  his  birth  ; 
• —  while,  at  other  times,  a  quick  and  playful  irradiation 
continued  to  brighten  all  the  fields  and  gardens  by  which 
they  passed,  forming  a  line  of  dancing  lights  along  the 
horizon  ;  like  the  meteors  of  the  north,  as  they  are  seen 
by  those  hunters  88S  who  pursue  the  white  and  blue  foxes 
on  the  confines  of  the  Icy  Sea. 

These  arches  and  fireworks  delighted  the  Ladies  of 


the  Princess  exceedingly;  and  with  their  usual  good 
logic,  they  deduced  from  his  taste  for  illuminations,  that 
the  King  of  Bucharia  would  make  the  most  exemplary 
husband  imaginable.  Nor,  indeed,  could  LALLA  EOOKH 
herself  help  feeling  the  kindness  and  splendor  with 
which  the  young  bridegroom  welcomed  her;  but  she 
also  felt  how  painful  is  the  gratitude  which  kindness 
from  those  we  cannot  love  excites ;  and  that  their  best 
blandishments  come  over  the  heart  with  all  that  chilling 
and  deadly  sweetness  which  we  can  fancy  in  the  cold, 
odoriferous  wind 886  that  is  to  blow  over  this  earth  in  the 
last  days. 

The  marriage  was  fixed  for  the  morning  after  her 
arrival,  when  she  was,  for  the  first  time,  to  be  presented 
to  the  monarch  in  that  Imperial  Palace  beyond  the  lake 
called  the  Shalimar.  Though  never  before  had  a  night 
of  more  wakeful  and  anxious  thought  been  passed  in  the 
Happy  Valley,  yet,  when  she  rose  in  the  morning,  and 
her  Ladies  came  around  her,  to  assist  in  the  adjustment 
of  the  bridal  ornaments,  they  thought  they  had  never 
seen  her  look  half  so  beautiful.  What  she  had  lost  of 
the  bloom  and  radiancy  of  her  charms  was  more  than 
made  up  by  that  intellectual  expression,  that  soul  beam- 
ing forth  from  the  eyes,  which  is  worth  all  the  rest  of 
loveliness.  When  they  had  tinged  her  fingers  with  the 
Henna  leaf,  and  placed  upon  her  brow  a  small  coronet  of 
jewels,  of  the  shape  worn  by  the  ancient  Queens  of 
Bucharia,  they  flung  over  her  head  the  rose-colored 
bridal  veil,  and  she  proceeded  to  the  barge  that  was  to 
convey  her  across  the  Lake;  —  first  kissing,  with  a 
mournful  look,  the  little  amulet  of  cornelian  which  her 
father  at  parting  had  hung  about  her  neck. 

The  morning  was  as  fresh  and  fair  as  the  maid  on 
whose  nuptials  it  rose,  and  the  shining  Lake,  all  covered 
with  boats,  the  minstrels  phiying  upon  the  shores  of  the 


islands,  and  the  crowded  summer-houses  on  the  green 
hills  around,  with  shawls  and  banners  waving  from  their 
roofs,  presented  such  a  picture  of  animated  rejoicing,  as 
only  she,  who  was  the  object  of  it  all,  did  not  feel  with 
transport.  To  LALLA  KOOKH  alone  it  was  a  melancholy 
pageant;  nor  could  she  have  even  borne  to  look  upon 
the  scene,  were  it  not  for  a  hope  that,  among  the  crowds 
around,  she  might  once  more  perhaps  catch  a  glimpse  of 
FEKAMOKZ.  So  much  was  her  imagination  haunted  by 
this  thought,  that  there  was  scarcely  an  ^slet  or  boat  she 
passed  on  the  way,  at  which  her  heart  did  not  flutter 
with  the  momentary  fancy  that  he  was  there.  Happy, 
in  her  eyes,  the  humblest  slave  upon  whom  the  light  of 
his  dear  looks  fell !  —  in  the  barge  immediately  after  the 
Princess  sat  FADLADEEN,  with  his  silken  curtains  thrown 
widely  apart,  that  all  might  have  the  benefit  of  his 
august  presence,  and  with  his  head  full  of  the  speech 
he  was  to  deliver  to  the  King,  "concerning  FERAMOHZ, 
and  literature,  and  the  Chabuk,  as  connected  therewith." 
They  now  had  entered  the  canal  which  leads  from  the 
Lake  to  the  splendid  domes  and  saloons  of  the  Shaliniar, 
and  went  gliding  on  through  the  gardens  that  ascended 
from  each  bank,  full  of  flowering  shrubs  that  made  the 
air  all  perfume;  while  from  the  middle  of  the  canal 
rose  jets  of  water,  smooth  and  unbroken,  to  such  a  daz- 
zling height,  that  they  stood  like  tall  pillars  of  diamond 
in  the  sunshine.  After  sailing  under  the  arches  of  vari- 
ous saloons,  they  at  length  arrived  at  the  last  and  most 
magnificent,  where  the  monarch  awaited  the  coming  of 
his  bride ;  and  such  was  the  agitation  of  her  heart  and 
frame  that  it  was  with  difficulty  she  could  walk  up  the 
marble  steps,  which  were  covered  with  cloth  of  gold  for 
her  ascent  from  the  barge.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  stood 
two  thrones,  as  precious  as  the  Cerulean  Throne  of  Cool- 
burga,887  on  oue  of  which  sat  ALIRIS,  the  youthful  King 

LALLA   ROOKH.  231 

of  Bneharia,  and  on  the  other  was,  in  a  few  minutes, 
to  be  placed  the  most  beautiful  Princess  in  the  world. 
Immediately  upon  the  entrance  of  LALLA  EOOKH  into 
the  saloon,  the  monarch  descended  from  his  throne  to 
meet  her ;  but  scarcely  had  he  time  to  take  her  hand  in 
his,  when  she  screamed  with  surprise,  and  fainted  at  his 
feet.  It  was  FERAMORZ  himself  that  stood  before  her ! 
FEKAMOKZ  was,  himself,  the  Sovereign  of  Bucharia,  who 
in  this  disguise  had  accompanied  his  young  bride  from 
Delhi,  and,  having  won  her  love  as  an  humble  minstrel, 
now  amply  deserved  to  enjoy  it  as  a  King. 

The  consternation  of  FADLADEEX  at  this  discovery 
was,  for  the  moment,  almost  pitiable.  But  change  of 
opinion  is  a  resource  too  convenient  in  courts  for  this 
experienced  courtier  not  to  have  learned  to  avail  himself 
of  it.  His  criticisms  were  all,  of  course,  recanted  in- 
stantly :  he  was  seized  with  an  admiration  of  the  King's 
verses,  as  unbounded  as,  he  begged  him  to  believe,  it 
was  disinterested ;  and  the  following  week  saw  him  in 
possession  of  an  additional  place,  swearing  by  all  the 
Saints  of  Islam  that  never  had  there  existed  so  great 
a  poet  as  the  Monarch  ALIRIS,  and,  moreover,  ready  to 
prescribe  his  favorite  regimen  of  the  Chabuk  for  every 
man,  woman,  and  child  th;it  dared  to  think  otherwise. 

Of  the  happiness  of  the  King  and  Queen  of  Bucharia, 
after  such  a  beginning,  there  can  be  but  little  doubt; 
and.  among  the  lesser  symptoms,  it  is  recorded  of  LALLA 
ROOK  ii.  that,  to  the  day  of  her  death,  in  memory  of 
their  delightful  journey,  she  never  called  the,  King  bjr 
any  other  name  than  FEKAMOKZ. 



Note  1,  p.  21.  — He  embarked  for  Arabia.  —  These  particulars 
of  the  visit  of  the  King  of  Bucharia  to  Aurungzebe  are  found  in 
Dow's  History  of  Uindost an,  vol.  iii.  p.  392. 

Note  2,  p.  21.  —  LALLA  ROOKH.  —  Tulip  cheek. 

Note  3.  p.  21.  —  Leila.  —  The  mistress  of  Mejnoun,  upon  whose 
story  so  many  romances  in  all  the  languages  of  the  East  are 

Note  4,  p.  21.  —  Shirine. —  For  the  loves  of  this  celebrated 
beauty  with  Khosrou  and  with  Ferliad,  see  U'llerbelot,  Gibbon, 
Oriental  Collections,  etc. 

Note  5,  p.  21. — Deicildt.  — "The  history  of  the  loves  of  Do- 
wild*?  and  Chizer,  the  son  of  the  Emperor  Alia,  is  written  in  an 
elegant  poem,  by  the  noble  Chusero."  —  Ferixhta. 

Note  6,  p.  22.  —  Scatti-riny  of  the  Hoses.  — Gul  Heazee. 

Note  7,  p.  22.  —  Emperor's  far  or.  —  "One  mark  of  honor  or 
knighthood  bestowed  by  the  Emperor  is  the  permission  to  wear  a 
small  kettledrum  at  the  bows  of  their  saddles,  which  at  first  was 
invented  for  the  training  of  hawks,  and  to  call  them  to  the  lure, 
and  is  worn  in  the  field  by  all  sportsmen  to  that  end."  —  Fryer's 

"Those  on  whom  the  King  has  conferred  the  privilege  must 
wear  an  ornament  of  jewels  on  the  right  side  of  the  (urban.  Mir- 
nionnted  by  a  high  plninc  of  the  feathers  of  a  kind  of  egret.  This 
bird  i»«  found  only  in  Cashmere,  and  the  feather-*  are  can-fiitlv  col- 
lected for  the  King,  who  bestows  them  on  his  nobles."  —  Kli'liin- 
stonc'x  Account  nf  ('antml. 

Note  «,  p.  2*2.  —  Kfilrr  Khun.  —  "  Khedar  Khan,  the  Khakan.  or 
Xing  of  Turqnestan  beyond  the  Gihon  (at  the  end  of  the  eleventh 


236  NOTES. 

century),  whenever  he  appeared  abroad,  was  preceded  by  seveu 
hundred  horsemen  with  silver  battle-axes,  and  was  followed  by  an 
equal  number  bearing  maces  of  gold.  He  was  a  great  patron  of 
poetry,  and  it  was  he  who  used  to  preside  at  public  exercises  of 
genius,  with  four  basins  of  gold  and  silver  by  him  to  distribute 
among  the  poets  who  excelled."  — Richardson'1  s  Dissertation  pre- 
fixed to  his  Dictionary. 

Note  9,  p.  22.  —  Gilt  pine-apples.  —  "  The  kubdeh,  a  large  gold- 
en knob,  generally  in  the  shape  of  a  pine-apple,  on  the  top  of  the 
canopy  over  the  litter  or  palanquin."  —  Scott's  Notes  on  the 

Note  10,  p.  22.  —  Sumptuous  litter.  —  In  the  Poein  of  Zohair,  in 
the  Moallakat,  there  is  the  following  lively  description  of  "  a  com- 
pany of  maidens  seated  on  camels." 

"  They  are  mounted  in  carriages  covered  with  costly  awnings, 
and  with  rose-colored  veils,  the  linings  of  which  have  the  hue  of 
crimson  Andem  wood. 

"  When  they  ascend  from  the  bosom  of  the  vale,  they  sit  forward 
on  the  saddle-cloth,  with  every  mark  of  a  voluptuous  gayety. 

"  Now,  when  they  have  reached  the  brink  of  yon  blue-gushing 
rivulet,  they  fix  the  poles  of  their  tents  like  the  Arab  with  a  settled 

Note  11,  p.  22. — Argus  pheasant's  wing. — See  Bernier's  de- 
scription of  the  attendants  on  Raucha-nara-Begum,  in  her  progress 
to  Cashmere. 

Note  12,  p.  23.  —  Munificent  protector.  —  This  hypocritical 
Emperor  would  have  made  a  worthy  associate  of  certain  Holy 
Leagues.  —  "  He  held  the  cloak  of  religion,"  says  Dow,  "between 
his  actions  and  the  vulgar;  and  impiously  thanked  the  Divinity  for 
a  success  which  he  owed  to  his  own  wickedness.  When  he  was 
murdering  and  persecuting  his  brothers  and  their  families,  he  was 
building  a  magnificent  mosque  at  Delhi,  as  an  offering  to  God  for 
his  assistance  to  him  in  the  civil  wars.  He  acted  as  high  priest  at 
the  consecration  of  this  temple;  and  made  a  practice  of  attending 
divine  service  there,  in  the  humble  dress  of  a  Fakeer.  But  when 
he  lifted  one  hand  to  the  Divinity,  he,  with  the  other,  signed  war- 
rants for  the  assassination  of  his  relations."  — History  of  Hindo- 
stan,  vol.  iii.  p.  335.  See  also  the  curious  letter  of  Aurungzebe, 
given  in  the  Oriental  Collections,  -vol.  i.  p.  320. 

NOTES.  237 

Note  18,  p.  23.  —  The  Idol  of  Jaghernaut.—"  The  idol  at  Jaglier- 
nat  lias  two  fine  diamonds  for  eyes.  No  goldsmith  is  suffered  to 
enter  the  Pagoda,  one  having  stolen  one  of  these  eyes,  being  locked 
up  all  night  with  the  Idol." — Taternier. 

Note  14,  p.  23.  — Jioyal  Gardens  of  DelJn.  — See  a  description 
of  these  Royal  Gardens  in  "An  Account  of  the  present  State  of 
Delhi,"  by  Lieut.  \V.  Franklin;  Axiat.  Itesearch,  vol.  iv.  p.  417. 

Note  15,  p.  23.  —  Lake  of  Pearl.  —  "In  the  neighborhood  is 
Notte  Gill,  or  the  Lake  of  Pearl,  which  receives  this  name  from  its 
pellucid  water." — Pennant's  Hindostan. 

"Nasir  Jung  encamped  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Lake  of  Tonoor, 
amused  himself  with  sailing  on  that  clear  and  beautiful  water,  and 
gave  it  the  fanciful  name  of  ilotee  Talah,  'the  Lake  of  Pearls,' 
which  it  still  retains." —  Wilks's  South  of  India. 

Note  10,  p.  24.  —  Isles  of  the  Went.  —  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  Ambas- 
sador from  James  I.  to  Jehan-Guire. 

Note  17,  p.  24.  —  Ezra.  —  "  The  romance  Wemakweazra,  writ- 
ten in  Persian  verse,  which  contains  the  loves  of  Wamak  and  Ezra, 
two  celebrated  lovers  who  lived  before  the  time  of"  — 
Note  on  the  Oriental  Tales. 

Note  18,  p.  24.  —  Rodahrer.  — Their  amour  is  recounted  in  the 
Shah-Nameh  of  Ferdousi;  and  there  is  much  beauty  in  the  passage 
which  describes  the  slaves  of  liodahvor  sitting  on  the  bank  of  the 
river,  ami  throwing  flowers  into  the  stream,  in  order  to  draw  the 
attention  of  the  young  Hero  who  is  encamped  on  the  opposite  side. 
(See  Champion's  translation.) 

Note  10,  p.  24. —  White  Demon.  —  liustam  is  the  Hercules  of 
the  Persians.  For  the  particulars  of  his  victory  over  the  Sopped 
IVevo,  or  White  Demon,  see  Oriental  ('ollcrtiuns.  vol.  ii.  p.  4"».  — 
"  Near  the  city  of  Shiran/  is  an  immense  quadrangular  monument, 
in  commemoration  of  this  romh:it.  railed  the  Kelaat-i-Deev  Sejierd, 
or  castle  of  the.  White  Giant,  which  Father  A ngclo,  in  his  d'azn- 
jihiltirlmn  1'ernirnm,  p.  \'2~,  declares  to  have  been  the  most  memo- 
rable monument  of  antiquity  which  he  had  M-en  in  Persia."  (Sec 
Ouseley's  Persian  Hisctll&niei.) 

Note  20,  p.  24.  —  Golden  anklet*.  —  " The  wom.-n  of  the  Idol, 
or  dancing  girls  of  the  Pagoda,  have  little  golden  bvlU  fastened  to 

238  NOTES. 

their  feet,  the  soft  harmonious  tinkling  of  wliicli  vibrates  in  unison 
with  the  exquisite  melody  of  their  voices."  —  Maurice's  Indian 

"  The  Arabian  courtesans,  like  the  Indian  women,  have  little 
golden  bells  fastened  round  their  legs,  neck,  and  elbows,  to  the 
sound  of  which  they  dance  before  the  King.  The  Arabian  prin- 
cesses wear  golden  rings  on  their  fingers,  to  which  little  bells  are 
suspended,  as  well  as  in  tlie  flowing  tresses  of  their  hair,  that  their 
superior  rank  may  be  known,  and  they  themselves  receive  in 
passing  the  homage  due  to  them."  (See  Calmet's  Dictionary,  art. 

Note  21,  p.  25.  —  Delicious  opium.  —  "  Abou-Tige,  ville  de  la 
Theba'ide,  ou  il  croit  beaucoup  de  pavot  noir,  dont  se  fait  le  meil- 
leur  opium."  —  D'Herbelot. 

Note  22,  p.  25.  —  Crishna.  — The  Indian  Apollo.  —  "  He  and 
the  three  Ramas  are  described  as  youths  of  perfect  beauty;  and  the 
princesses  of  Hindustan  were  all  passionately  in  love  with  Chrishna, 
who  continues  to  this  hour  the  darling  God  of  the  Indian  women." 
—  Sir  W.  Jones,  on  the  Gods  of  Greece,  Italy,  and  India. 

Note  23.  p.  25.  —  Shatcl-goats  of  Tibet.  — See  Tumor's  Enibassy 
for  a  description  of  this  animal,  "  the  most  beauMful  among  the 
whole  tribe  of  goats."  The  material  for  the  shawls  (which  is  car- 
ried to  Cashmere)  is  found  next  the  skin. 

Note  24,  p.  26.  —  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan.  — For  the  real 
history  of  this  Impostor,  whose  original  name  was  Hakem  ben 
Haschem,  and  who  was  called  Mokanna  from  the  veil  of  silver 
gauze  (or,  as  others  say,  golden)  which  he  always  wore,  see  D'Her- 

Note  25,  p.  27. — Khorassan. —  Khorassan  signifies,  in  the 
old  Persian  language,  Province  or  Region  of  the  Sun.  —  Sir  W. 

Note  26,  p.  27.  —  Flowerets  and  fruits  blush  orer  every  stream. 

"The  fruits  of  Meru  are  finer  than  those  of  any  other  place; 
and  one  cannot  see  in  any  other  city  such  palaces  with  groves,  and 
streams,  and  gardens."  —  Ebn  Haukal's  Geography. 

Note  27,  p.  27.  —  Among  MEROU'S  bright  palaces  and  groves. 
One  of  the  royal  cities  of  Khorassan. 

Note  28,  p.  27.  — MOUSSA'S.  —  Moses. 

NOTES.  239 

Note  29,  p.  27.  —  O'er  MOUSSA'S  cheek,  when  doicn  the  Mount 
he  trod. 

"  Ses  disciples  assuroient  qu'il  se  couvroit  le  visage,  pour  ne  pas 
e"blouir  ceux  qui  1'approchoient  par  1'eclat  de  son  visage  comme 
Moyse."  —  D'  llerbelot. 

Note  30,  p.  27.  —  In  hatred  to  the  Caliph's  hue  of  night. 

Black  was  the  color  adopted  by  the  Caliphs  of  the  House  of 
Abbas,  in  their  garments,  turbans,  and  standards.  —  "  11  faut 
remarqtier  ici  touchant  les  habits  blancs  des  disciples  de  Hakem, 
que  la  couleur  des  habits,  des  coiffures  et  des  etendards  dea 
Khalifes  Abassides  etant  la  noire,  ce  chef  de  Rebelles  ne  pouvoit 
pas  clioisir  une  qui  lui  fut  plus  opposee."  —  D'Herbelot. 

Note  31,  p.  28.  —  H'ithjavrlins  of  the  lijht  Kathalan  reed. 
"Our  dark  javelins,  exquisitely  wrought  of  Khathaiau  reeds, 
slender  and  delicate."  —  Poem  of  Amru. 

Note  32,  p.  28.  —  Fill'd  icith  the  stems. 

Pichula,  used  anciently  for  arrows  by  the  Persians. 

Note  33,  p.  28.  —  That  bloom  on  IUAN'S  rivers. 

The  Persians  call  this  plant  Gaz.  The  celebrated  shaft  of  Is- 
fendlar,  one  of  their  ancient  heroes,  was  made  of  it.  —  "Nothing 
can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  appearance  of  this  plant  in  flower 
during  the  rains  on  the  banks  of  rivers,  where  it  is  usually  inter- 
woven with  a  lovely  twining  asdepias."  —  .Sir  \\'.  Jones,  Botanical 
Select  Indian  I'laiit.i. 

Note  34,  p.  28.  —  Like  a  ch<-nar-'.ree  yrore,  ichrn  winter  thrown. 

The  Oriental  plane.  "The  chenar  is  a  delightful  tree;  its  bole 
is  of  a  fine  white  and  smooth  bark;  and  its  foliage,  which  grows  in 
a  tuft  at  the  summit,  is  of  a  bright  green."  —  Murier's  Travel*. 

Note  3."),  p.  28.  —  Fro».  trho  knwl  at  HKAIIMA'S  burning 

The  burning  fountains  of  lirahma  near  Chittagong,  esteemed 
as  holy.  —  Turin  r. 

Note  30,  p.  28.  —  To  the  small,  half-nhitt  ylances  of  K  ATM  AT.— 

240  NOTES. 

Note  37,  p.  29.  — Like  tulip-beds,  of  different  shape  and  dyes. 

"The  name  of  tulip  is  said  to  be  of  Turkish  extraction,  and 
given  to  the  flower  on  account  of  its  resembling  a  turban." — Beck- 
mann's  History  of  Intentions. 

Note  38,  p.  29.  —  And  fur-bound  bonnet  of  Bucharian  shape. 

"The  inhabitants  of  Bucharia  wear  a  round  cloth  bonnet, 
shaped  much  after  the  Polish  fashion,  having  a  large  fur  border. 
They  tie  their  kaftans  about  the  middle  with  a  girdle  of  a  kind  of 
silk  crape,  several  times  round  the  body." — Account  of  Independ- 
ent Tartary,  in  Pinko-ton's  Collection. 

Note  39,  p.  29. — Overwhelmed  in  fight  and  captive  to  the  Greek. 
In  the  war  of  the  Caliph  Mahadi  against  the  Empress  Irene,  for 
an  account  of  which  vide  Gibbon,  vol.  x. 

Note  40,  p.  31. — The  flying  throne  of  star-taught  SOIJMAN. 

This  wonderful  throne  was  called  The  Star  of  the  Genii.  For 
a  full  description  of  it,  see  the  Fragment,  translated  by  Captain 
Franklin,  from  a  Persian  MS.  entitled,  "  The  History  of  Jerusa- 
lem," Oriental  Collections,  vol.  i.  p.  235. — When  Soliman  travelled, 
the  Eastern  writers  say,  "  He  had  a  carpet  of  green  silk  on  which 
his  throne  was  placed,  being  of  a  prodigious  length  and  breadth, 
and  sufficient  for  all  his  forces  to  stand  upon,  the  men  placing 
themselves  on  his  right  hand,  and  the  spirits  on  his  left;  and  that 
when  all  were  in  order,  the  wind,  at  his  command,  took  up  the  car- 
pet, and  transported  it,  with  all  that  were  upon  it,  wherever  he 
pleased ;  the  army  of  birds  at  the  same  time  flying  over  their  heads, 
and  forming  a  kind  of  canopy  to  shade  them  from  the  sun." — 
Sale's  Koran,  vol.  ii.  p.  214,  note. 

Note  41,  p.  31. — Formany  an  age,  in  every  chance  and  change. 
The  transmigration  of  souls  was  one  of  his  doctrines.     ( Vide 

Note  42,  p.  31.  —  To  which  all  Heaven,  except  the  Proud  One, 

"  And  when  we  said  unto  the  angels,  Worship  Adam,  they  all 
worshipped  except  Eblis  (Lucifer),  who  refused."  —  The  Koran, 
chap.  ii. 

Note  43,  p.  31. — In  MoussA's/rame,  —  and,  thence  descending, 
flowed.  —  Moses. 

NOTES.  241 

Note  44,  p.  31.  —  Through  many  a  Prophet's  breast. 

This  is  according  to  D'Herbelot's  account  of  the  doctrines  of 
Mokanna: — "  Sa  doctrine  e*toit,  que  Dieu  avoit  pris  une  forme 
et  figure  huraaine,  depuis  qu'il  eut  coinmande  aux  Anges  d'adorer 
Adam,  le  premier  des  hommes.  Qu'apres  la  mort  d'Adam,  Dieu 
e"toit  apparu  sous  la  figure  de  plusieurs  Prophetes,  et  autres  grands 
hommes  qu'il  avoit  choisis,  jusqu'a  ce  qu'il  prit  ct-lled'Abu  Moslem, 
Prince  de  Kliorassan,  lequel  professoit  1'erreur  de  la  Tenassukhiah 
ou  Metempsychose;  et  qu'apres  la  inort  de  ce  Prince,  la  Divinite 
e"toit  passe'e  et  descendue  eu  sa  personne." 

Note  45,  p.  31.  —  In  ISSA  shone.  —  Jesus. 

Note  46,  p.  34.  —  Born  by  that  ancient  flood,  ichich  from  its 

The  Amoo,  which  rises  in  the  Belur  Tag,  or  Dark  Mountains, 
anfc,  running  nearly  from  east  lowest,  splits  into  two  branches; 
one  of  which  falls  into  the  Caspian  Sea,  and  the  other  into  Aral 
Nahr,  or  the  Lake  of  Eagles. 

Note  47,  p.  35.  —  The  bulbul  utters,  ere  her  soul  depart. —  The 

Note  48,  p.  42. —  In  holy  ROOM,  or  MECCA'S  dim  arcades. 

The  Cities  of  Com  (or  Koom)  and  Cashan  are  full  of  mosques, 
mausoleums,  and  sepulchres  of  the  descendants  of  Ali,  the  Saints 
of  Persia. — Chardin. 

Note  49,  p.  42.  —  Stood  rases,  fiWd  with  KIPHMKE'S  golden 

An  island  in  the  Persian  Gulf,  celebrated  for  its  white  wine. 

Note  5O,  p.  42.  —  Like  ZKMZKM'S  Spring  of  Holiness,  had 

The  miraculous  wHI  at  Mecca;  so  called,  says  Sale,  from  the 
murmuring  of  its  waters. 

\oto  51,  p.  42.  —  Whom  INDIA  xrrrr.t.  the  monkey  d>  ity. 

The  (!o«l  Hannaman.  —  "Apes  arc  in  many  part-*  of  India 
highly  venerated,  out  of  respect  to  tin-  (lod  Ilamiainati.  a  deity 
partaking  of  the  form  of  that  race."  —  V< •niwnt'*  llin<ln*titn. 

Si-e  a  curious  account,  iti  S'cpli«>n's  /Vr*i«i,  of  a  solemn  «'in- 
bassy  from  some  part  of  the  Indies  to  (ioa.  when  the  Portuguese 

242  NOTES. 

were  there,  offering  vast  treasures  for  the  recovery  of  a  monkey's 
tooth,  which  they  held  in  great  veneration,  and  which  had  been 
taken  away  upon  the  conquest  of  the  kingdom  of  Jafanapatan. 

Note  52,  p.  42.  —  To  bend  in  worship,  LUCIFER  was  right. 

The  resolution  of  Eblis  not  to  acknowledge  the  new  creature, 
man,  was,  according  to  Mahometan  tradition,  thus  adopted:  — 
"The  earth  (which  God  had  selected  for  the  materials  of  His 
work )  was  carried  into  Arabia  to  a  place  between  Mecca  and  Tayef , 
where,  being  first  kneaded  by  the  angels,  it  was  afterwards  fash- 
ioned by  God  himself  into  a  human  form,  and  left  to  dry  for  the 
space  of  forty  days,  or,  as  others  say,  as  many  years;  the  angels,  in 
the  meantime,  often  visiting  it,  and  Eblis  (then  one  of  the  angels 
nearest  to  God's  presence,  afterwards  the  devil)  among  the  rest; 
but  he,  not  contented  with  looking  at  it,  kicked  it  with  his  foot  till 
it  rung;  and  knowing  God  designed  that  creature  to  be  his  supe- 
rior, took  a  secret  resolution  never  to  acknowledge  him  as  such." 
—  Sale  oil  the  Koran. 

Note  53,  p.  43.  — From  dead  men's  marrow  guides  them  best  at 

A  kind  of  lantern  formerly  used  by  robbers,  called  the  Hand  of 
Glory,  the  candle  for  which  was  made  of  the  fat  of  a  dead  male- 
factor. This,  however,  was  rather  a  "Western  than  an  Eastern 

Note  54,  p.  43.  — In  that  best-marble  ofichich  Gods  are  made. 

The  material  of  which  images  of  Gaudma  (the  Birman  Deity) 
are  made,  is  held  sacred.  "  Birmans  may  not  purchase  the  mar- 
ble in  mass,  but  are  suffered,  and  indeed  encouraged,  to  buy 
figures  of  the  Deity  ready  made."  —  Symes's  Ava,  vol.  ii.  p.  376. 

Note  55,  p.  46.  —  Of  Eerzrah  flowers,  came  filVd  with  pesti- 

"  It  is  commonly  said  in  Persia  that  if  a  man  breathe  in  the  hot 
south  wind,  which  in  June  or  July  passes  over  that  flower  (the 
Kerzereh),  it  will  kill  him."  —  Thevenot. 

Note  56,  p.  49.  —  Within  the  crocodile's  stretch'd  jaws  to 

The  humming-bird  is  said  to  run  this  risk  for  the  purpose  of 
picking  the  crocodile's  teeth.  The  same  circumstance  is  related  of 

NOTES,  243 

the  lapwing,  as  a  fact  to  which  he  was  witness,  by  Paul  Lucas, 
Voyage  fait  en  1714. 

The  ancient  story  concerning  the  Trochilus,  or  humming-bird, 
entering  with  impunity  into  the  mouth  of  the  crocodile,  is  firmly 
believed  at  Java.  —  Harrow's  Cochin  China. 

Note  57,  p.  50.  —  That  rank  and  venomous  food  on  which  she 

'•  Circum  easdem  ripas  (Nili,  viz.)  ales  est  Ibis.  Ea  serpentimn 
populatur  ova,  gratissimamque  ex  his  cscain  nidis  suis  refert."  — 

Note  58,  p.  51. —  Yamtcheou. — "The  Feast  of  Lanterns  is 
celebrated  at  Yamtcheou  with  more  magnificence  than  anywhere 
else:  and  the  report  goes  that  the  illuminations  there  are  so  splen- 
did that  an  Emperor  once,  not  daring  openly  to  leave  his  Court  to 
go  thither,  committed  himself  with  the  Queen  and  several  Prin- 
cesses of  his  family  into  the  hands  of  a  magician,  who  promised  to 
transport  them  thither  in  a  trice.  lie  made  them  in  the  night  to 
ascend  magnificent  thrones  that  were  borne  up  by  swans,  which  in  a 
moment  arrived  at  Yamtcheou.  The  Emperor  saw  at  his  leisure 
all  the  solemnity,  being  carried  upon  a  cloud  that  hovered  over  the 
city  and  descended  by  degrees;  and  came  back  again  with  the  same 
s]>eed  ami  equipage,  nobody  at  court  perceiving  his  absence."  — 
77<e  Present  Mate  of  China,  p.  150. 

Note  59,  p.  51.  —  Sceneries  of  bamboo-icork. —  See  a  description 
of  the  nuptials  of  Vizier  Alee  in  the  Asiatic  Annual  Register  for 

Note  60,  p.  51.  — Chinese  illuminations.  —  "  The  vulgar  ascribe 
it  to  an  accident  that  happened  in  the  family  of  a  famous  mandarin, 
whose  daughter,  walking  one  evening  upon  the  shore  of  a  lake,  fell 
in  and  was  drowned;  tin:  afllictod  father,  with  bis  family,  ran 
thither,  and,  the  bettor  to  find  IHT.  he  caused  a  great  company  of 
lanterns  to  be  lighted.  All  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  thronged 
afti-r  him  with  torches.  The  year  ensuing  they  made  tires  upon 
tin-  shores  the  same  day;  they  ron tinned  the  ceremony  every  year, 
every  one  lighted  his  lantern,  and  by  degrees  it  grew  into  a  cus- 
tom." —  l'rcnrnt  Nlate  of  China. 

Note  01,  p.  52. —  Like  SKUA'S  (Jitrcn  could  rntiqnixh  with  that 

"Thou  hast  ravished  my  heart  with  one  of  thine  oyes."  —  SoL 

244  NOTES. 

Note  62,  p.  52. —  The  fingers'  ends  with  a  bright  roseate  hue. 

"They  tinged  the  ends  of  their  fingers  scarlet  with  henna,  so 
that  they  resembled  branches  of  coral."  — Story  of  Prince  Futtun 
in  liahardanush. 

Note  63,  p.  53.  —  To  give  that  long,  dark  languish  to  the  eye. 

"  The  women  blacken  the  inside  of  their  eyelids  with  a  powder 
named  the  black  kohol."  — Russel. 

"  None  of  these  ladies,"  says  Shaw,  "  take  themselves  to  be 
completely  dressed,  till  they  have  tinged  the  hair  and  edges  of  their 
eyelids  with  the  powder  of  lead  ore.  Now,  as  this  operation  is 
performed  by  dipping  first  into  the  powder  a  small  wooden  bodkin 
of  the  thickness  of  a  quill,  and  then  drawing  it  afterwards  through 
the  eyelids  over  the  ball  of  the  eye,  we  shall  have  a  lively  image  of 
what  the  Prophet  ( Jer.  iv.  30)  may  be  supposed  to  mean  by  rend- 
ing the  eyes  with  painting.  This  practice  is  no  doubt  of  great  an- 
tiquity; for  besides  the  instance  already  taken  notice  of,  we  find 
that  where  Jezebel  is  said  (2  Kings  ix.  30)  to  have  painted  her  face, 
the  original  words  are,  she  adjusted  her  eyes  with  the  powder  of 
lead  ore."  — Shaw's  Travels. 

Note  64,  p.  53.  —  In  her  full  lap  the  Champac's  leaves  of  gold. 

The  appearance  of  the  blossoms  of  the  gold-colored  Champac 
on  the  black  hair  of  the  Indian  women  has  supplied  the  Sanscrit 
poets  with  many  elegant  allusions.  (See  Asiatic  Researches, 
vol.  iv.) 

Note  65,  p.  53.  —  The  sweet  Elcaya,  and  that  courteous  tree. 
A  tree  famous  for  its  perfume,  and  common  on  the  hills  of 
Yemen.  — Niebuhr. 

Note  66,  p.  53.  —  Which  bows  to  all  who  seek  its  canopy. 

Of  the  genus  mimosa,  "which  droops  its  branches  whenever 
any  person  approaches  it,  seeming  as  if  it  saluted  those  who  retire 
under  its  shade."  — Ibid. 

Note  67,  p.  54.  —  The  bowers  of  TIBET,  send  forth  odorous 

"  Cloves  are  a  principal  ingredient  in  the  composition  of  the  per- 
fumed rods,  which  men  of  rank  keep  constantly  burning  in  their 
presence." — Turner's  Tibet. 

NOTES.  245 

Note  <58,  p.  54.  —  With  odoriferous  woods  of  COMORIN. 

"  C'est  d'oii  vient  le  bois  d'alocs  que  les  Arabes  appellent  Cud 
Comari,  et  celui  du  sandal,  qui  s'y  trouve  en  grande  quantite."  — 
D  Herbelot. 

Note  69,  p.  54.  —  The  crimson  blossoms  of  the  coral  tree. 

"  Thousands  of  variegated  lories  visit  the  coral  trees."  —  Barrow. 

Note  70,  p.  51.  —  Mecca's  blue  sacred  pigeon. 

"  In  Mecca  there  are  quantities  of  blue  pigeons,  which  none 
will  affright  or  abuse,  much  less  kill."  —  PitVs  account  of  the  Ma- 

Note  71,  p.  54.  —  The  thrush  of  Hindostan. 

"  The  Pagoda  Thrush  is  esteemed  among  the  first  choristers  of 
India.  It  sits  perched  on  the  sacred  pagodas,  and  from  thence 
delivers  its  melodious  song."  —  Pennant's  Hindostan. 

Note  72,  p.  55.  —  About  the  gardens,  drunk  with  that  sweet 

Ta  vernier  adds,  that  while  the  birds  of  Paradise  lie  in  this  intoxi- 
cated state,  the  emmets  come  and  eat  off  their  legs  ;  and  that  hence 
it  is  they  are  said  to  have  no  feet. 

Note  73,  p.  55.  —  Whose  scent  hatlt  litr'd  them  o'pr  the  summer 

Birds  of  Paradise,  which,  at  the  nutmeg  season,  come  in  flights 
from  the  .southern  isles  to  India;  and  ''  the  strength  of  the  nut- 
meg," says  Tavernier,  "  so  intoxicates  them,  that  they  fall  dead 
drunk  to  the  earth." 

Note  74,  p.  55.  —  Build  their  hi'/fi  nests  of  Innldinrj  rhinainon. 
"That  bird  which  liveth  in  Arabia,  and  buildeth  its  nest  with 
cinnamon.1'  —  Bnncni''*  \'nl<i<ir  Krrors. 

Note  75,  p.  55.  —  Slt-Pinny  in  lit/lit.  llki-  the  ijreen  birds  that 

"  The  spirits  of  the  martyrs  will  !>••  lodged  in  the  crops  of  green 
birds."  —  (iibbim,  vol.  ix.  p.  421. 

Note  7*5.  p.  55.  —  Morr  likf  tin-  Injuries  of  Hint  inii'ion*  Kin-i. 

Shedad,  who  made  tho  delicious  gardens  of  I  rim.  in  imitation 
of  Paradise,  ami  destroyed  by  lightning  the  first  time  he  at- 
tempted to  enter  them. 

246  NOTES. 

Note  77,  p.  56.  — In  its  blue  blossoms  hum  themselves  to  sleep. 

"  My  Pandits  assure  me  that  the  plant  before  us  (the  Nilica)  is 
their  Sephalica,  thus  named  because  the  bees  are  supposed  to  sleep 
on  its  blossoms."  —  Sir  W.  Jones. 

Note  78,  p.  58.  —  As  they  were  captives  to  the  King  of  Flowers. 
"  They  deferred  it  till  the  King  of  Flowers  should  ascend  his 
throne  of  enamelled  foliage."  —  The  Bahardanush. 

Note  79,  p.  58.  — But  a  light  golden  chain-work  round  her  hair. 

"  One  of  the  head-dresses  of  the  Persian  women  is  composed 
of  a  light  golden  chain-work,  set  with  small  pearls,  with  a  thin 
gold  plate  pendant,  about  the  bigness  of  a  crown-piece,  on  which 
is  impressed  an  Arabian  prayer,  and  which  hangs  upon  the  cheek 
below  the  ear."  —  Hamcay's  Travels. 

Note  80,  p.  58.  —  Siich  as  the  maids  of  TEZD  and  SIIIRAS 

"  Certainly  the  women  of  Yezd  are  the  handsomest  women  in 
Persia.  The  proverb  is,  that  to  live  happy  a  man  must  have  a 
wife  of  Yezd,  eat  the  bread  of  Yezdecas,  and  drink  the  wine  of 
Shiraz."  —  Tavernier. 

Note  81,  p.  59.  —  Upon  a  musnud's  edge. 

Musnuds  are  cushioned  seats,  usually  reserved  for  persons  of 

Note  82,  p.  59.  — In  the  pathetic  mode  of  ISFAHAN. 

The  Persians,  like  the  ancient  Greeks,  call  their  musical  modes 
or  Perclas  by  the  names  of  different  coimtries  or  cities,  as  the  mode 
of  Isfahan,  the  mode  of  Irak,  etc. 

Note  83,  p.  59.  —  There's  a  bower  of  roses  by  BENDEMEER'S 

A  river  which  flows  near  the  ruins  of  Chilminar. 

Note  84,  p.  61.  —  The  hills  of  crystal  on  the  Caspian  shore. 

"  To  the  north  of  us  (on  the  coast  of  the  Caspian,  near  Badku) 
was  a  mountain,  which  sparkled  like  diamonds,  arising  from  the 
sea-glass  and  crystals  with  which  it  abounds."  —  Journey  of  the 
Russian  Ambassador  to  Persia,  1746. 

Note  85,  p.  61.  —  Of  EDEX,  shake  in  the  eternal  breeze. 

"  To  which  will  be  added  the  sound  of  the  bells,  hanging  on 
the  trees,  which  will  be  put  in  motion  by  the  wind  proceeding 
from  the  throne  of  God,  as  often  as  the  blessed  wish  for  music." 
—  Sale. 

NOTES.  247 

Note  86,  p.  62.  —  And  his  floating  eyes  —  oh!  they  resemble. 
"  Whose  wanton  eyes  resemble  blue  water-lilies,  agitated  by 
the  breeze."  —  Jayadeva. 

Note  87,  p.  62.  —  Blue  water-lilies. 

The  blue  lotus,  which  grows  in  Cashmere  and  in  Persia. 

Note  88,  p.  63.  —  To  muse  upon  the  pictures  that  huny  round. 

It  has  been  generally  supposed  that  the  Mahometans  prohibit 
all  pictures  of  animals;  but  Toderini  shows  that,  though  the  prac- 
tice is  forbidden  by  the  Koran,  they  are  not  more  averse  to  painted 
figures  and  images  than  other  people.  From  Mr.  'Murphy's  work, 
too,  we  find  that  the  Arabs  of  Spain  had  no  objection  to  the  intro- 
duction of  figures  into  painting. 

Note  89,  p.  63.  —  Whose  orb  when  half  retired  looks  loveliest. 

This  is  not  quite  astronomically  true.  "  Dr.  Hadley  (says 
Keil)  has  shown  that  Venus  is  brightest  when  she  is  about  forty 
degrees  removed  from  the  sun;  and  that  then  but  only  a  fourth 
part  of  her  lucid  disk  is  to  be  seen  from  the  earth." 

Note  90,  p.  63-  —  He  read  that  to  be  blest  is  to  be  icise. 

For  the  lores  of  King  Solomon  (who  was  supposed  to  preside 
over  the  whole  race  of  Genii)  with  Balkis.  the  Queen  of  Shcba  or 
Saba.  see  D'llerbe'ot,  and  the  Notes  on  the  Koran,  chap  ii. 

"  In  the  palace  which  Solomon  ordered  to  be  built  against  the 
arrival  of  the  Queen  of  Saba,  the  floor  or  pavement  was  of  trans- 
parent glass,  laid  over  running  water,  in  which  fish  were  swim- 
ming." This  led  the  Queen  into  a  very  natural  mistake,  which  the 
Koran  has  not  thought  beneath  its  dignity  to  commemorate.  ••  It 
was  said  unto  her,  '  Enter  the  palace.'  And  when  she  saw  it  sne 
Imagined  it  to  be  a  great  water;  and  she  discovered  her  legs,  by 
lifting  up  her  robe  to  pass  through  it.  Whereupon  Solomon  said 
to  her,  'Verily,  this  Is  the  place  evenly  floored  with  glass.'"  — 

Note  91,  p.  63.  —  Here  fond  ZI:I,F.IKA  woo*  with  open  arms. 

The  wife  of  Potiphar,  thus  named  by  the  Orientals. 

"The  passion  which  this  frail  lieauty  of  uuti<|ui!y  conceived  for 
her  young  Hebrew  slave  has  given  rise  to  a  much-esteemed  |M»eiii 
in  the  Persian  language,  entitled  Yuscf  run  ZrlilJiu.  by  Noure.ldin 
.laini;  the  manuscript  copy  of  which,  in  the  Ho.lleian  Library  at 
Oxford,  is  supposed  to  In-  the  linest  in  the  whole  world."  —  Aufe 

248  NOTES. 

Note  92,  p.  63.  —  With  a  new  text  to  consecrate  their  love. 

The  particulars  of  Mahomet's  amour  with  Mary,  the  Coptic 
girl,  in  justification  of  which  lie  added  a  new  chapter  to  the  Koran, 
may  be  found  in  Gagnier's  Notes  upon  Abulfeda,  p.  151. 

Note  93,  p.  65.  —  But  in  that  deep-blue,  melancholy  dress. 
"Deep  blue  is  their  mourning  color."'  — Hanway. 

Note  94,  p.  05.  —  Sat  in  her  sorrow  like  the  sweet  night-flower. 
The  sorrowful  nyctanthes,  which  begins  to  spread  its  rich  odor 
after  sunset. 

Note  95,  p.  67.  —  As  the  viper  weaves  its  wily  covering. 

"  Concerning  the  vipers,  which  Pliny  says  were  frequent  among 
the  balsam-trees,  I  made  very  particular  inquiry:  several  were 
brought  me  alive  both  to  Yambo  and  Jidda."  — Bruce. 

Note  96,  p.  72. —  The  sunny  apples  of  Istkahar.  —  '  In  the  ter- 
ritory of  Istkahar  there  is  a  kind  of  apple,  half  of  which  is  sweet 
and  half  sour."  — Ebn  Haukal. 

Note  97,  p.  72.  —  They  saio  a  young  Hindoo  girl  upon  the  bank. 
—  For  an  account  of  this  ceremony,  see  Grandpre's  Voyage  in  the 
Indian  Ocean. 

Note  98,  p.  72.  —  The  Olon-tala,  or  Sea  of  Stars.  —  "  The  place 
where  the  Whangho,  a  river  of  Tibet,  rises,  and  where  there  are 
more  than  a  hundred  springs,  which  sparkle  like  stars;  whence  it 
is  called  Ilotun-nor,  that  is,  the  Sea  of  Stars."  —  Pinkerton's  De- 
scription of  Tibet. 

Note  99,  p.  74.  —  Hath  sprung  up  here. 

"  The  Lescar  or  Imperial  Camp  is  divided,  like  a  regular  town, 
into  squares,  alleys,  and  streets,  and  from  a  rising  ground  furnishes 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  prospects  in  the  world.  Starting  up  in 
a  few  hours  in  an  uninhabited  plain,  it  raises  the  idea  of  a  city 
built  by  enchantment.  Even  those  who  leave  their  houses  in  cities 
to  follow  the  prince  in  his  progress  are  frequently  so  charmed  by 
the  Lescar,  when  situated  in  a  beautiful  and  convenient  place,  that 
they  cannot  prevail  with  themselves  to  remove.  To  prevent  this 
inconvenience  to  the  court,  the  Emperor,  after  sufficient  time  is 
allowed  to  the  tradesmen  to  follow,  orders  them  to  be  burnt  out  of 
their  tents."  —  Dow's  Hindostan. 

Colonel  Wilks  gives  a  lively  picture  of  an  Eastern  encampment: 

NOTES.  249 

—  "  His  camp,  like  that  of  most  Indian  armies,  exhibited  a  motley 
collection  of  covers  from  the  scorching  sun  and  dews  of  the  night, 
variegated  according  to  the  taste  or  means  of  each  individual,  by 
extensive  inclosures  of  colored  calico  surrounding  superb  suites  of 
tents;  by  ragged  cloths  or  blankets  stretched  over  sticks  or  branches ; 
palm-leaves  hastily  spread  over  similar  supports;  handsome  tents 
and  splendid  canopies;  horses,  oxen,  elephants,  and  camels;  all  in- 
termixed without  any  exterior  mark  of  order  or  design,  except  the 
flags  of  the  chiefs,  which  usually  mark  the  centres  of  a  congeries 
of  these  masses;  the  only  regular  part  of  the  encampment  being 
the  streets  of  shops,  each  of  which  is  constructed  nearly  in  the 
manner  of  a  booth  at  an  English  fair."  —  Historical  Sketches  of 
the  South  of  India. 

Note  100,  p.  74.  —  Built  the  high  pillar' d  halls  O/CUILMINAK. 

The  edifices  of  Chilminar  and  Balbec  are  supposed  to  have  been 
built  by  the  Genii,  acting  under  the  orders  of  Jan  ben  Jan,  who 
governed  the  world  long  before  the  time  of  Adam. 

Note  101,  p.  74. — And  camels,  tufted  o'er  with  Yemen's  shells. 
"  A  superb  camel,  ornamented  with  strings  and  tufts  of  small 
shells."  —  All  Bey. 

Note  102,  p.  74. — But  the  far  torrent,  or  the  locust  bird. 

A  native  of  Khorassan,  and  allured  southward  by  means  of  the 
water  of  a  fountain  between  Sliira/.  and  Ispahan,  called  the  Foun- 
tain of  Birds,  of  which  it  is  so  fond  that  it  will  follow  wherever 
that  water  is  carried. 

Note  103,  p.  74.  —  Of  laden  camels  and  their  drivers'  songs. 

"  Some  of  the  camels  have  bells  about  their  necks,  and  some 
about  their  legs,  like  those  which  our  carriers  put  about  their  fore- 
horses'  necks,  which,  together  with  the  servants  (who  belong  to 
the  camels,  and  travel  on  foot),  singing  all  night,  make  a  pleasant 
noise,  ami  the  journey  passes  away  delightfully." — I'itt's  Account 
of  tlir  Mahometans. 

"  The  camel-driver  follows  the  camels,  singing,  and  sometimes 
playing  upon  his  pipe;  the  louder  he  sinps  and  pipes,  the  faster  the 
camels  go.  Nay,  they  will  stand  still  when  he  gives  over  his  mu- 
sic." —  Tarernirr. 

Note  104,  p.  7">. — Of  the  Al>i/nxlni<in  tnim/xt.  Kind  <md  float. 
"  This  trutnpH.  is  often  called,  in  Abyssinia,  nrwr  runiio,  which 
signifies  the  Note  of  the  K.igle."  —  .V«/r  of  Itrucc's  L''lit<>r. 

250  NOTES. 

Note  105,  p.  75.  —  The  Night  and  Shadow,  over  yonder  tent. 

The  two  black  standards  borne  before  the  Caliphs  of  the  House 
of  Abbas  were  called,  allegorically,  The  Night  and  the  Shadow. 
(See  Gibbon.) 

Note  106,  p.  75.  —  Defiance  fierce  at  Islam.  —  The  Mahometan 

Note  107,  p.  75. — But,  having  sworn  upon  the  Holy  Grave. 

"  The  Persians  swear  by  the  tomb  of  Shah  Besade,  who  is  buried 
at  Casbin ;  and  when  one  desires  another  to  asseverate  a  matter,  he 
will  ask  him  if  he  dare  swear  by  the  Holy  Grave."  —  Struy. 

Note  108,  p.  75. — Werespoil'd  to  feed  the  Pilgrim's  luxury. 
Mahadi,  in  a  single  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  expended  six  millions 
of  dinars  of  gold. 

Note  109,  p.  75. — Of  MECCA'S  sun,  with  urns  of  Persian  snow. 
"  Nivem  Meccam  apportavit,  rem  ibi  aut  nunquain  aut  raro 
visam."  — Abulfeda. 

Note  110,  p.  75. — First,  in  the  van,  the  People  of  the  Rock. 
The  inhabitants  of  Hejaz  or  Arabia  Petrsea,  called  by  an  East- 
ern writer  "  The  People  of  the  Rock."     (See  Ebn  Haukal. ) 

Note  111,  p.  75. — On  their  light  mountain  steeds,  of  royal  stock. 
"  Those  horses,  called  by  the  Arabians  Kochlam,  of  whom  a 
•written  genealogy  has  been  kept  for  2,000  years.     They  are  said  to 
derive  their  origin  from  King  Solomon's  steeds."  — Niebuhr. 

Note  112,  p.  76. — The  flashing  of  their  sicords*  rich  marquetry. 

"  Many  of  the  figures  on  the  blades  of  their  swords  are  wrought 
in  gold  or  silver,  or  in  marquetry  with  small  gems." — Asiat. 
Misc.  v.  i. 

Note  113,  p.  76. — With  dusky  legions  from  the  land  of  Myrrh. 
Azab  or  Saba. 

Note  114,  p.  76. — Waving  their  heron  crests  with  martial  grace. 
"  The  chiefs  of  the  Uzbek  Tartars  wear  a  plume  of  white  heron's 
feathers  in  their  turbans." — Account  of  Independent  Tartary. 

Note  115,  p.  76. — Wild  warriors  of  the  turquoise  hills. 
"  In  the  mountains- of  Nishapour  and  Tons  (inKhorassan)  they 
find  turquoises."  — Ebn  Haukal. 

NOTES.  251 

Note  116,  p.  76. — Cf  HINDOO  Kosn,  in  stormy  freedom  bred. 
For  a  description  of  these  stupendous  ranges  of  mountains,  see 
Elphinstone's  Caubul. 

Note  117,  p.  76. — Tier  Worshippers  of  Fire. 

The  Ghebers  or  Guebres,  those  original  natives  of  Persia  who 
adhered  to  their  ancient  faith,  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  and  who, 
after  the  conquest  of  their  country  by  the  Arabs,  were  either  per- 
secuted at  home,  or  forced  to  become  wanderers  abroad. 

Note  118,  p.  76. — From  YEZD'S  Eternal  Mansion  of  the  Fire. 

"  Yezd,  the  chief  residence  of  those  ancient  natives  who  wor- 
ship the  Sun  and  the  Fire,  which  latter  they  have  carefully  kept 
lighted,  without  being  once  extinguished  for  a  moment,  about 
3,000  years,  on  a  mountain  near  Yezd,  called  Ater  Quedali,  signify- 
ing the  House  or  Mansion  of  the  Fire.  He  is  reckoned  very  unfor- 
tunate who  dies  off  that  mountain." — Stephen's  Persia. 

Note  119,  p.  76.  —  That  burn  into  the  CASPIAN,  fierce  they 

"  When  the  weather  is  hazy,  the  springs  of  naphtha  (on  an 
island  near  Baku)  boil  up  the  higher,  and  the  naphtha  often  takes 
fire  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  runs  in  a  flame  into  the  sea  to 
a  distance  almost  incredible."  —  llanway  on  the  Ecerlastiny  Fire 
at  Baku. 

Note  120,  p.  77.  —  By  which  the  prostrate  Caravan  is  rtic'J. 

Savary  says  of  the  south  wind,  which  blows  in  Kgypt  from 
February  to  May,  "  Sometimes  it  appears  only  in  the  shape  of  an 
impetuous  whirlwind,  which  passes  rapidly,  and  is  fatal  to  the 
traveller  surprised  in  the  middle  of  the  deserts.  Torrents  of  burn- 
ing sand  roll  before  it,  the  firmament  is  enveloped  in  a  thick  veil, 
and  the  sun  appears  of  the  color  of  blood.  Sometimes  whole  cara- 
vans are  buried  in  it." 

Note  121,  p.  77.  —  The  Champions  of  the  Faith  throiiyh  UKDKK'H 

In  the  preat  victor)'  gained  by  Mahomed  at  Heder,  he  was 
assisted,  say  the  Mussulmans,  by  three  thousand  angels,  led  by 
Gabriel,  mounted  on  his  horse  Hia/.um.  (See  The  Koran  an<l  it* 

Note  !'£»,  p.  70.  —  "  Alia  AUmr!" 

The  Teehir.  or  cry  of  the  Arabs.  "  Alia  Arbar! "  says  Ockley, 
means  "God  is  most  mighty." 

252  NOTES. 

Note  123,  p.  79.  —  And  light  your  shrines  and  chant  your 

The  ziraleet  is  a  kind  of  chorus,  which  the  women  of  the  East 
sing  upon  joyful  occasions.  —  Russel. 

Note  124,  p.  79.  —  Or  warm  or  brighten,  —  like  that  Syrian 

The  Dead  Sea,  which  contains  neither  animal  nor  vegetable  life. 

Note  125,  p.  80. —  O'er  his  lost  throne  —  then  pass'd  the 
JWOTX'S  flood. 

The  ancient  Oxus. 

Note  126,  p.  80.  — Eais'd  the  white  banner  within  NEKSHEB'S 

A  city  of  Transoxiana. 

Note  127,  p.  81.  —  To-day's  young  flower  is  springing  in  its 

"  You  never  can  cast  your  eyes  on  this  tree,  but  you  meet  there 
either  blossoms  or  fruit;  and  as  the  blossoms  drop  underneath 
on  the  ground  (which  is  frequently  covered  with  these  purple- 
colored  flowers),  others  come  forth  in  their  stead,"  etc.,  etc.  — 

Note  128,  p.  81.  —  With  which  the  Dives  have  gifted  him. 
The  Demons  of  the  Persian  mythology. 

Note  129,  p.  81. —  That  spangle  INDIA'S  fields  on  showery 

Carreri  mentions  the  fire-flies  in  India  during  the  rainy  seasons. 
(See  his  Travels. ) 

Note  130,  p.  82.  —  Who  brush'd  the  thousands  of  the  Assyrian 

Sennacherib,  called  by  the  Orientals  King  of  Moussal. — D'Her- 

Note  131,  p.  82.  —  Of  PARVIZ. 

Chosroes.  For  the  description  of  his  Throne  or  Palace,  see 
Gibbon  and  D'Herbelot. 

There  were  said  to  be  under  this  Throne  or  Palace  of  Khosrou 
Parviz  a  hundred  vaults  filled  with  "  treasures  so  immense  that 
some  Mahometan  writers  tell  us,  their  Prophet,  to  encourage  hw 

NOTES.  253 

disciples,  carried  them  to  a  rock,  which,  at  his  command,  opened, 
and  gave  them  a  prospect  through  it  of  the  treasures  of  Khosrou." 
—  Universal  History. 

Note  132,  p.  82.  —  And  the  heron  crest  that  shone. 

"The  crown  of  Gerashid  is  cloudy  and  tarnished  before  the 
heron  tuft  of  thy  turban."  —  From  one  of  the  elegies  or  songs  in 
praise  of  Ali,  written  in  characters  of  gold  round  the  gallery  of 
Abbas's  tomb.  (See  Chardin.) 

Note  133,  p.  82.  —  Magnificent,  o'er  AM'S  beauteous  eyes. 

The  beauty  of  Ali's  eyes  was  so  remarkable  that  whenever  the 
Persians  would  describe  anything  as  very  lovely,  they  say  it  is 
Ayn  Hali,  or  the  Eyes  of  Ali.  —  Chardin. 

Note  134,  p.  83.  — Rise  from  the  Holy  Well,  and  cast  its  li<jht. 

We  are  not  told  more  of  this  trick  of  the  Impostor  than  that  it 
was  "  une  machine  qu'il  disoit  etre  la  Lune."  According  to  IJich- 
ardson,  the  miracle  is  perpetuated  in  Nekscheb.  —  "  Nakshab,  the 
name  of  a  city  in  Transoxiana,  where  they  say  there  is  a  well,  in 
which  the  appearance  of  the  moon  is  to  be  seen  night  and  day." 

Note  135,  p.  83.  —  lionnd  the  rich  city  and  the  plain  for  miles. 

"  II  amusa  pendant  deux  mois  le  peuple  de  la  ville  de  Nekscheb, 
en  faisant  sortir  toutes  les  nuits  du  fond  d'un  puits  un  corps  lumi- 
neux  semblable  a  la  Lune,  qui  portoit  sa  lumiere  jusqu'a  la  dis- 
tance de  plusieiirs  milles."  —  I)' Hrrbelot.  Hence  he  was  called 
Sazende'hinah,  or  the  Moon-maker. 

Note  130,  p.  83.  —  Had  rested  on  the  Ark: 

The  Shechinali,  called  Sakinat  in  the  Koran.  (See  Sale's  Note, 
chap,  ii.) 

Note  137,  p.  83.  —  Of  the  small  drum  icith  which  they  count  the 

The  parts  of  the  night  are  made  known  as  well  by  instruments 
of  music,  as  by  the  rounds  of  the  watchmen  with  cries  and  small 
drums.  (See  Murder's  Oriental  Cimtoinn,  vol.  i.  p.  1H>.) 

Note  138,  p.  83.  —  On  for  tht>  linni>n.  that  li'i/it  yon  lofty  screen. 

The  Serrapunla.  high  screens  of  rrtl  cloth,  stiffened  with  cane, 
used  to  enclose  a  considerable  space  round  the  royal  tents.  —  Xotc* 
on  the  liahardanimh. 

The  tents  of  I'rinces  were  generally  illuminated.     Norden  tells 

254  NOTES. 

us  that  the  tent  of  the  Bey  of  Girge  was  distinguished  from  the 
other  tents  by  forty  lanterns  being  suspended  before  it.  (See 
Banner's  Observations  on  Job). 

Note  139,  p.  84.  —  Pour  to  the  spot,  like  bees  of  KAUZEROON. 

"From  the  groves  of  orange-trees  at  Kauzeroon  the  bees  cull  a 
celebrated  honey."  —  Morier's  Travels. 

Note  140,  p.  85.  —  Of  nuptial  pomp,  she  sinks  into  his  tide. 

"  A  custom  still  subsisting  at  this  day  seems  to  me  to  prove  that 
the  Egyptians  formerly  sacrificed  a  young  virgin  to  the  God  of  the 
Nile;  for  they  now  make  a  statue  of  earth  in  shape  of  a  girl,  to 
which  they  give  the  name  of  the  Betrothed  Bride,  and  throw  it  into 
the  river."  —  Savary. 

Note  141,  p.  86.  — Engines  of  havoc  in,  unknown  'before. 

That  they  knew  the  secret'of  the  Greek  fire  among  the  Mussul- 
mans early  in  the  eleventh  century,  appears  from  Dow's  Account 
of  Mamood  I.  "  When  he  arrived  at  Moultan,  finding  that  the 
country  of  the  Jits  was  defended  by  great  rivers,  he  ordered  fifteen 
hundred  boats  to  be  built,  each  of  which  he  armed  with  six  iron 
spikes,  projecting  from  their  prows  and  sides,  to  prevent  their  be- 
ing boarded  by  the  enemy,  who  were  very  expert  in  that  kind  of 
war.  When  he  had  launched  this  fleet,  he  ordered  twenty  archers 
into  each  boat,  and  five  others  with  fire-balls,  to  burn  the  craft  of 
the  Jits,  and  naphtha  to  set  the  whole  river  on  fire." 

The  agnee  aster,  too,  in  Indian  poems  the  Instrument  of  Fire, 
whose  flame  cannot  be  extinguished,  is  supposed  to  signify  the 
Greek  fire.  (See  Wilks's  South  of  India,  vol.  i.  p.  471.)  And  in 
the  curious  Javan  Poem,  the  Brata  Yudha,  given  by  Sir  Stamford 
Raffles  in  his  History  of  Java,  we  find,  "  He  aimed  at  the  heart  of 
Soeta  with  the  sharp-pointed  Weapon  of  Fire." 

The  mention  of  gunpowder  as  in  use  among  the  Arabians,  long 
before  its  supposed  discovery  in  Europe,  is  introduced  by  Ebn 
Fad  hi,  the  Egyptian  geographer,  who  lived  in  the  thirteen  century. 
Bodies,  he  says,  "  in  the  form  of  scorpions,  bound  round  and 
filled  with  nitrous  powder,  glide  along,  making  a  gentle  noise; 
then,  exploding,  they  lighten,  as  it  were,  and  burn.  But  there  are 
others  which,  cast  into  the  air,  stretch  along  like  a  cloud,  roaring 
horribly,  as  thunder  roars,  and  on  all  sides  vomiting  out  flames, 
burst,  burn,  and  reduce  to  cinders  whatever  comes  in  their  way." 
The  historian  Ben  Abdalla,  in  speaking  of  the  sieges  of  Abulualid 

NOTES.  055 

In  the  year  of  the  Hegira  712,  says,  "  A  fiery  globe,  by  means  of 
combustible  matter,  with  a  mighty  noise  suddenly  emitted,  strikes 
with  the  force  of  lightning,  and  shakes  the  citadel."  (See  the  ex- 
tracts from  Casiri's  Biblioth.  Arab.  Ilispan.  in  the  Appendix  to 
Berington's  Literary  History  of  the  Middle  Ayt'*.) 

Note  142,  p.  86.  — And  horrible  as  new  ;  — javelins  that  fly. 

The  Greek  fire,  that  was  occasionally  lent  by  the  emperors  to 
their  allies.  "  It  was,"  says  Gibbon,  "either  launched  in  red-hot 
balls  of  stone  and  iron,  or  darted  in  arrows  or  javelins,  t'.visted 
round  with  flax  and  tow,  which  had  deeply  imbibed  the  inflamma- 
ble oil." 

Note  143,  p.  86.  —  Discharge,  as  from  a  kindled  Naphtha  fount. 
See  Hanway's  Account  of  the  Sprint/ 8  of  Naphtha  at  liitku 
(which  is  called  by  Lieutenant  Pottinger  "  Joala  Mokee,"  or  the 
Flaming  Mouth)  taking  fire  and  running  into  the  st>a.  Dr.  Cooke, 
in  his  Journal,  mentions  some  wells  in  Circassia,  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  this  inflammable  oil,  from  which  issues  boiling  water. 
"Though  the  weather,"  he  adds,  "  was  now  very  cold,  the  warmth 
of  these  wells  of  hot  water  produced  near  them  the  verdure  and 
flowers  of  spring." 

Major  Scott  Waring  says,  that  naphtha  is  used  by  the  Persians, 
as  we  are  told  it  was  in  hell,  for  lamps. 

" many  a  row 

Of  starry  lamps  and  blazing  cressets,  fed 
With  naphtha  and  asphaltus,  yielding  light 
As  from  a  sky." 

Note  144,  p.  86.  —  Like  those  icild  birds  (hat  by  (he  Mayiar* 

"  At  the  grrat  festival  of  (ire.  c:illi>d  the  Shel>  Sex.e,  they  used  to 
set  fire  to  large  bunches  of  dry  combustibles,  fastened  round  wiid 
beasts  and  birds,  which  being  then  let  loose,  the  air  and  earih 
appeared  one  great  illumination;  and  as  these  terrified  creatures 
naturally  lied  to  the  woods  for  shelter,  it  is  easy  to  conceive  the 
conflagrations  they  produced."  —  Itichardnon'a  Dlmtertution, 

Note  143,  p  88.  —  Keep,  aral'd  irith  prrciona  iimxk,  for  thvae 
they  lore. 

"  The  righteous  shall  be  given  to  drink  of  pure  wine,  sealed;  the 
seal  whereof  shall  be  musk."  —  Kurau,  chap.  Ixxxiii. 

256  NOTES. 

Note  146,  p.  90. —  Chi  Us  own  brood;  —  no  Demon  of  the  Waste. 

"  The  Afghauns  believe  each  of  the  numerous  solitudes  and 
deserts  of  their  country  to  be  inhabited  by  a  lonely  demon,  whom 
they  call  the  Ghoolee  Beeabau,  or  Spirit  of  the  Waste.  They  often 
illustrate  the  wildness  of  any  sequestered  tribe,  by  saying,  They 
are  wild  as  the  Demon  of  the  Waste."  —  El^hinstone's  Caubul. 

Note  147,  p.  91.  —  With  burning  drugs,  for  this  last  hour  dis- 

"  II  donna  dn  poison  dans  le  vin  a  tous  ses  gens,  et  se  jeta  lui- 
meme  ensuite  dans  une  cuve  pleine  de  drogues  briilantes  et  consu- 
mantes,  afin  qu'il  ne  restat  rien  de  tous  les  meinbres  de  son  corps, 
et  que  ceux  qui  restoient  de  sa  secte  pussent  croire  qu'il  etoit 
monte  au  ciel,  ce  qui  ne  manqua  pas  d'arriver."  — D'Herbelot. 

Note  148,  p.  92.  —In  the  lone  Cities  of  the  Silent  dwell. 

"They  have  all  a  great  reverence  for  burial-grounds,  which 
they  sometimes  call  by  the  poetical  name  of  Cities  of  the  Silent, 
and  which  they  people  with  the  ghosts  of  the  departed,  who  sit 
each  at  the  head  of  his  own  grave,  invisible  to  mortal  eyes."  — 

Note  149,  p.  97.  —  And  to  eat  any  mangoes  but  those  of  Maza- 
gong  was,  of  course,  impossible.  —  "  The  celebrity  of  Alazagong  is 
owing  to  its  mangoes,  which  are  certainly  the  best  fruit  I  ever 
tasted.  The  parent  tree,  from  which  all  those  of  this  species  have 
been  grafted,  is  honored  during  the  fruit-season  by  a  guard  of 
sepoys;  and,  in  the  reign  of  Shah  Jehan,  couriers  were  stationed 
between  Delhi  and  the  Mahratta  coast  to  secure  an  abundant  and 
fresh  supply  of  mangoes  for  the  royal  table."  —  Mrs.  Graham's 
Journal  of  a  Residence  in  India. 

Note  150,  p.  97.  —  Laden  with  his  fine  antique  porcelain.  — 
This  old  porcelain  is  found  in  digging,  and  "if  it  is  esteemed,  it  is 
not  because  it  has  acquired  any  new  degree  of  beauty  in  the  earth, 
but  because  it  has  retained  its  ancient  beauty;  and  this  alone  is  of 
great  importance  in  China,  where  they  give  large  sums  for  the 
smallest  vessels  which  were  used  tinder  the  Emperors  Yan  and 
Chun,  who  reigned  many  ages  before  the  dynasty  of  Tang,  at  which 
time  porcelain  began  to  be  used  by  the  Emperors  "  (about  the  year 
442).  —  Dunn's  Collection  of  curious  Observations,  etc.;  —  a  bad 
translation  of  some  parts  of  the  Lettt  es  $d\fiantes  et  curieuses  of 
the  Missionary  Jesuits. 

NOTES.  257 

Note  151,  p.  98.  —  And  if  Nasser,  the  Arabian  merchant,  told 
no  better.  —  "  La  lecture  de  ces  Fables  plaisoit  si  fort  aux  Arabcs, 
que,  quand  Mahomet  les  entretenoit  de  1'IIistoire  de  1'Ancien  Tes- 
tament, ils  la  meprisoient,  lui  disant  que  celles  que  Nasser  leur 
racontoit  etoient  beaucoup  plus  belles.  Cette  preference  attira  a 
Nasser  la  malediction  de  Mahomet  et  de  tous  ses  disciples."  — 

Note  152,  p.  99. —  Like  the  blacksmith's  apron  converted  into  a 
banner.  — The  blacksmith  Gao,  who  successfully  resisted  the  tyrant 
Zohak  and  whose  apron  became  the  Koyal  Standard  of  Persia. 

Note  153,  p.  100.  —  That  xnblime  bird,  which  flies  always  in  the 
air,  and  never  touches  the  earth.  —  "  The  Huma,  a  bird  peculiar  to 
the  East.  It  is  supposed  to  fly  constantly  in  the  air,  and  never 
touch  the  ground:  it  is  looked  upon  as  a  bird  of  happy  omen;  and 
that  every  head  it  overshades  will  in  time  wear  a  crown."  —  liich- 

In  the  terms  of  alliance  made  by  Fuzzel  Oola  Khan  with  Hyder 
in  17(50,  one  of  the  stipulations  was,  "  that  he  should  have  the  dis- 
tinction of  two  honorary  attendants  standing  behind  him,  holding 
fans  composed  of  the  feathers  of  the  Humma,  according  to  the 
practice  of  his  family."  —  Wilk^s  Smith  of  India.  He  adds  in  a 
note:  —  "  The  Humma  is  a  fabulous  bird.  The  head  over  which 
its  shadow  once  passes  will  assuredly  be  circled  with  a  crown.  The 
splendid  little  bird  suspended  over  the  throne  of  Tippoo  Sultaun, 
found  at  Seringapatam  in  171*9,  was  intended  to  represent  this 
poetical  fancy." 

Note  154,  p.  101. — Like  those  on  the  Written  Mnitntiiin,  lastfor- 
erer. —  "  To  the  pilgrims  to  Mount  Sinai  we  inns'  attribute  the 
inscriptions,  figures,  etc..  on  those  rocks,  whirh  have  from  thence 
acquired  the  name  of  the  Written  Mountain." — Volm-y.  M.  (Jebe- 
lin  and  others  have  been  at  much  pains  to  attach  some  mysterious 
and  important  meaning  to  these  inscriptions;  but  Niebiilir,  as  well 
as  Volney.  thinks  that  they  must  have  been  executed  at  idle  hours 
by  thi1  travellers  to  Mount  Sinai,  "  who  were  satisfied  with  cutting 
the  iin|H>l:shcd  rock  with  any  pointed  instrument:  adding  to  thHr 
names  and  the  date  of  their  journeys  some  rude  figures,  which  lie- 
speak  the  hand  of  a  people  but  little  skilled  in  the  arts." — \itbuhr. 

Note  155,  p.  101.  —  Like  the  Old  M<in  of  tin-  &a,  upon  his  back. 
—  The.  Story  of  binbad. 

258  NOTES. 

Note  156,  p.  101. — To  which  Hafez  compares  his  mistress's  hair. 
—  See  Nott's  Hafez,  Ode  v. 

Note  157,  p.  101. — To  the  Camalata,  by  whose  rosy  blossoms  the 
heaven  of  Indra  is  scented.  —  "  The  Camalata  (called  by  Linnaeus, 
Iponuea)  is  the  most  beautiful  of  its  order,  both  in  the  color  and 
form  of  its  leaves  and  flowers;  its  elegant  blossoms  are  'celestial 
rosy  red,  Love's  proper  hue,'  and  have  justly  procured  it  the  name 
of  Camalata,  or  Love's  Creeper."  —  Sir  W.  Jones. 

"  Camalata  may  also  mean  a  mythological  plant  by  which  all 
desires  are  granted  to  such  as  inhabit  the  heaven  of  Indra;  and  if 
ever  flower  was  worthy  of  Paradise,  it  is  our  charming  Ipomsea." — 
Sir  W.  Jones. 

Note  158,  p.  101.  —  That  flower-loving  nymph  whom  they  wor- 
ship in  the  temples  of  Kathay.  —  "  According  to  Father  Premare, 
in  his  tract  on  Chinese  Mythology,  the  mother  of  Fo-hi  was  the 
daughter  of  heaven,  surnamed  Flower-loving;  and  as  the  nymph 
was  walking  alone  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  she  found  herself  encir- 
cled by  a  rainbow,  after  which  she  became  pregnant,  and,  at  the 
end  of  twelve  years,  was  delivered  of  a  son  radiant  as  herself."  — 
Asiatic  Researches. 

Note  159,  p.  103.  —  With  its  plane-tree  Isle  reflected  clear. 

"  Numerous  small  islands  emerge  from  the  Lake  of  Cashmere. 
One  is  called  Char  Chenaur,  from  the  plane-trees  upon  it."  — 

Note  ICO,  p.  103. — And  the  golden  floods  that  thitherward  stray. 

"  The  Altan  Kol  or  Golden  River  of  Tibet,  which  runs  into  the 
Lakes  of  Sing-su-hay,  has  abundance  of  gold  in  its  sands,  which 
employs  the  inhabitants  all  the  summer  ingathering  it." — Pinker- 
ton1  s  Description  of  Tibet. 

Note  161,  p.  104.  — Blooms  nowhere  but  in  Paradise. 

"The  Brahmins  of  this  .province  insist  that  the  blue  campac 
flowers  only  in  Paradise."  —  Sir  W.  Jones.  It  anpoars,  however, 
from  a  curious  letter  of  the  Sultan  of  Menangcabow,  given  by 
Marsden,  that  one  place  on  earth  may  lay  claim  to  the  possession 
of  it.  "  This  is  the  Sultan,  who  keeps  the  flower  champaka  that 
is  blue,  and  to  be  found  in  no  other  country  but  his,  being  yellow 
elsewhere."  —  Marsden' s  Sumatra. 

Note  162,  p.  104.  — Flung  at  night  from  angel  hands. 

"  The  Mahometans  suppose  that  falling  stars  are  the  firebrands 


wherewith  the  good  angels  drive  away  the  had,  when  they  approach 
too  near  the  empyrean  or  verge  of  the  heavens."  —  Fryer, 

Note  163,  p.  105.  —  Beneath  the  pillars  of  CHILMINAR. 

The  Forty  Pillars;  so  the  Persians  call  the  ruins  of  Persepolis. 
It  is  imagined  by  them  that  this  palace  and  the  edifices  at  Balbec 
were  built  by  Genii,  for  the  purpose  of  hiding  in  their  subter- 
raneous caverns  immense  treasures,  which  still  remain  there.  (See 
D'Herbelot  and  Volney.  ) 

Note  164,  p.  105.  —  To  the  ^outh  of  sun-bright  Araby. 

The  Isles  of  Panchaia. 

Diodorus  mentions  the  Isle  of  Panchaia,  to  the  sotith  of  Arabia 
Felix,  where  there  was  a  temple  of  Jupiter.  This  island,  or  rather 
cluster  of  isles,  has  disappeared,  "sunk  (says  Grandpre)  in  the 
abyss  made  by  the  fire  beneath  their  foundations."  —  Voyage  to  the 
Indian  Ocean. 

165,  p.  105.  —  ThejeweWd  cup  of  their  King  JAMSHID. 
"  The  cup  of  Jamshid,  discovered,  they  say,  when  digging  for 
the  foundations  of  Persepolis."  —  Richardson. 

Mote  10(5.  p.  105.  —  O'er  coral  rocks,  and  amber  beds. 

"  It  is  not  like  the  Sea  of  India,  whose  bottom  is  rich  with  pearls 
and  ambergris,  whose  mountains  of  the  coast  are  stored  with 
gold  and  precious  stones,  whose  gulfs  breed  creatures  that  yield 
ivory,  and  among  the  plants  of  whose  shores  are  ebony,  red  wood, 
and  the  wood  of  llaiizan,  aloes,  camphor,  cloves,  sandal-wood,  and 
all  other  spices  and  aromatics:  where  parrots  and  peacocks  are 
birds  of  the  forest,  and  musk  and  civet  are  collected  upon  the 
lands."  —  Travels  of  Two  Mohammedans. 

Note  107,  p.  105.  —  Thy  Pajodn  and  thy  pillur'd  shades. 
.........     "  in  the  ground 

The  bended  twigs  take  root,  and  daughters  grow 

About  the  mother-tree,  a  ]iillar'<l  nhti<lc, 

High  over-areh'd,  and  echoing  walks  between."  —  Mii.TON. 

For  a  particular  description  and  plate  of  the  lianyan-lrce,  see 
Cordiner's  fry  Ion. 

Note  1*W.  p.  105.  —  Tin/  if  onarcha  and  their  Thousand  Thrones. 

"With  this  irnmen  e  trea»ure  M.unooil  returned  to  (ihizni,  and 

in  the   year  400  prepared  a  magnificent   festival,    where   he  dis- 

260  NOTES. 

played  to  the  people  his  wealth  in  golden  thrones  and  in  other 
ornaments,  in  a  great  plain  without  the  city  of  Ghizni." —  Fa- 

Note  169,  p.  106.  —  Tis  he  of  Gazna — fierce  in  wrath. 

"  Malmiood  of  Gazna,  or  Ghizni,  who  conquered  India  in  the 
beginning  of  the  eleventh  century."  (See  his  history  in  Uow  and 
Sir  J.  Malcolm.) 

Note  170,  p.  106.  —  Of  many  a  young  and  loc'd  Sultana. 

"  It  is  reported  that  the  hunting  equipage  of  the  Sultan  Mah- 
mood  was  so  magnificent  that  he  kept  400  greyhounds  and  blood- 
hounds, each  of  which  wore  a  collar  set  with  jewels,  and  a  cover- 
ing edged  with  gold  and  pearls."  —  Universal  History,  vol.  iii. 

Note  171,  p.  107.  —  -For  Liberty  shed,  so  holy  is. 

Objections  may  be  made  to  my  use  of  the  word  Liberty  in 
this,  and  more  especially  in  the  story  that  follows  it,  as  totally  in- 
applicable to  any  state  of  things  that  has  ever  existed  in  the  East; 
but  though  I  cannot,  of  course,  mean  to  employ  it  in  that  en- 
larged and  noble  sense  which  is  so  well  understood  at  the  present 
day,  and,  I  grieve  to  say,  so  little  acted  upon,  yet  it  is  no  dispar- 
agement to  the  word  to  apply  it  to  that  national  independence, 
that  freedom  from  the  interference  and  dictation  of  foreigners, 
without  which,  indeed,  no  liberty  of  any  kind  can  exist;  and  for 
which  both  Hindoos  and  Persians  fought  against  their  Mussulman 
invaders  with,  in  many  cases,  a  bravery  that  deserved  much  better 

Note  172,  p.  107.  — Now  among  AFRIC'S  lunar  Mountains. 

"  The  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  or  the  Monies  Lunse  of  an- 
tiquity, at  the  foot  of  which  the  Nile  is  supposed  to  rise."  —  Bruce. 

"Sometimes  called,"  says  Jackson,  "Jibbel  Kumrie,  or  the 
white  or  lunar-colored  mountains;  so  a  white  horse  is  called  by  the 
Arabians  a  moon-colored  horse." 

Note  173,  p.  107.  — And  hail  the  new-born  Giant's  smile. 
"The  Nile,  which  the  Abyssinians  know  by  the  names  of  Abey 
and  Alawy,  or  the  Giant." — Asiatic  Researches,  vol.  i.  p.  387. 

Note  174,  p.  107.  —  Her  grots,  and  sepulchres  of  Kings. 

See  Perry's  View  of  the  Levant  for  an  account  of  the  sepulchres 
in  Upper  Thebes,  and  the  numberless  grots,  covered  all  over  with 
hieroglyphics,  in  the  mountains  of  Upper  Egypt. 

NOTES.  261 

Note  175,  p.  107.  —  In  warm  ROSETTA'S  rale  —  now  loves. 
"  The  orchards  of  Rosetta  are  filled  with  turtle-doves." — Son- 

Note  176,  p.  108.  —  The  azure  calm  of  M<EUIS'  Lake. 
Savary  mentions  the  pelicans  upon  Lake  Moeris. 

Note  177,  p.  108.  —  Warns  them  to  their  silken  beds, 

"The  superb  date-tree,  whose  head   languidly  reclines,   like 

that  of  a  handsome  woman  overcome  with  sleep."  —  Dafard  el 


Note  178,  p.  108.  —  Some  purple-winy* d  Sultana  sitting. 

"  That  beautiful  bird,  with  plumage  of  the  finest  shining  blue, 
with  purple  beak  and  legs,  the  natural  and  living  ornament  of  the 
temples  and  palaces  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  which,  from  the 
stateliness  of  its  port,  as  well  as  the  brilliancy  of  its  colors,  has 
obtained  the  title  of  Sultana."  — Sonnini. 

Note  170,  p.  109.  —  Only  the  fierce  hyaena  stalks. 

Jackson,  speaking  of  the  plague  that  occurred  in  West  Bar- 
bary,  when  he  was  thi:re,  says,  ''The  birds  of  the  air  fled  away 
from  the  abodes  of  men.  The  hyienas,  on  the  contrary,  visited  the 
cemeteries,"  etc. 

Note  180,  p.  10!).  —  Throughout  the  city's  desolate  icalks. 

"  Gondar  was  full  of  hyaenas  from  the  time  it  turned  dark  till 
the  dawn  of  day,  seeking  the  different  pieces  of  slaughtered  car- 
casses which  this  cruel  and  unclean  people  expose  in  the  streets 
without  burial,  and  who  firmly  believe  that  these  animals  are  Ka- 
lashta  from  the  neighboring  mountains,  transformed  by  magic,  and 
come  down  to  eat  human  llesh  in  the  dark  in  safety."  —  Hrurc. 

Note  181,  p.  100.  —  The  glaring  of  those  large  blue  eyes.  —  Hruce. 

Note  182,  p.  110.  —  lint  see — who  yonder  comes  by  nlcallh. 

This  circumstance  has  been  often  introduced  into  poetry. — by 
Vincent ius  Fabrieius,  by  Darwin,  and  lately,  with  very  powerful 
effect,  by  Mr.  Wilson. 

Note  183,  p.  112.  —  Who  slugs  at  the  last  his  own  death-lay. 

"  In  the  they  suppose  the  I'lm  ni\  to  have  fifty  orifuvs  in 
his  bill,  whieh  are  continued  to  his  t.ii1 ;  and  that,  after  living  one 

262  NOTES. 

thousand  years,  he  builds  himself  a  funeral  pile,  sings  a  melodious 
air  of  different  harmonies  through  his  fifty  organ  pipes,  flaps  his 
wings  with  a  velocity  which  sets  fire  to  the  wood,  and  consumes 
himself."  — Richardson. 

Note  184,  p.  113.  —  Their  first  sweet  draught  of  glory  take. 

"  On  the  shore?  of  a  quadrangular  lake  stand  a  thousand  gob- 
lets, made  of  stars,  out  of  which  souls  predestined  to  enjoy  felicity 
drink  the  crystal  wave."  —  From  Chate-.ubriand's  Description  of  the 
Mahometan  Paradise  in  his  Beauties  of  Christianity. 

Note  185,  p.  113.  — Now,  upon  SYRIA'S  land  of  roses. 

Richardson  thinks  that  Syria  had  its  name  from  Suri,  a  beautiful 
and  delicate  species  of  rose,  for  which  that  country  has  been  always 
famous;  —  hence,  Suristan,  the  Laud  of  Roses. 

Note*186,  p.  114.  —  Gay  lizards,  glittering  on  the  walls. 

"  The  number  of  lizards  I  saw  one  day  in  the  great  court  of  the 
Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Balbec  amounted  to  many  thousands;  the 
ground,  the  walls,  and  stones  of  the  ruined  buildings,  were  covered 
with  them."  — Bruce. 

Note  187,  p.  114.  —  Of  shepherd's  ancient  reed. 
"  The  Syrinx,  or  Pan's  pipe,  is  still  a  pas-toral  instrument  in 
Syria."  —  Bussel. 

Note  188,  p.  114.  —  Of  the  wild  bees  of  PALESTINE. 

"  Wild  bees,  frequent  in  Palestine,  in  hollow  trunks  or  branches 
of  trees,  and  the  clefts  of  rocks.  Thus  it  is  said  (Psalm  Ixxxi. ), 
'  honey  out  of  the  stony  rock.'  "  —  Burdens  Oriental  Ciistoms. 

Note  189,  p.  114. — And  woods,  so  full  of  nightingales. 

"The  river  Jordan  is  on  both  sides  beset  with  little,  thick,  and 
pleasant  woods,  among  which  thousands  of  nightingales  warble  all 
together."  —  Thevenot. 

Note  190,  p.  114.  —  On  that  great  Temple,  once  his  own. 
The  Temple  of  the  Sun  at  Balbec. 

Note  191,  p.  115.  —  The  beautiful  blue  damsel  flies. 

"  You  behold  there  a  considerable  number  of  a  remarkable  spe- 
cies of  beautiful  insects,  the  elegance  of  whose  appearance  and 
their  attire  procured  for  them  the  name  of  Damsels."  —  Sonnini. 

NOTES.  263 

Note  192,  p.  115.  —  Of  a  small  imarefs  rustic  fount. 

Imaret,  "hospice  oh  on  loge  et  nourrit,  gratis,  les  pelerins  pen- 
dant trois  jours."  —  Toderini,  translated  by  the  Abbe  de  Cournand. 
(See  also  Castellan's  Mceurs  des  Othomans,  torn.  v.  p.  145.) 

Note  193,  p.  116.  —  Kneels,  with  Ids  forehead  to  the  south. 

"  Such  Turks  as  at  the  common  hours  of  prayer  are  on  the  road, 
or  so  employed  as  not  to  find  convenience  to  attend  the  mosques, 
are  still  obliged  to  execute  that  duty;  nor  are  they  ever  known  to 
fail,  whatever  business  they  are  then  about,  but  pray  immediately 
when  the  hour  alarms  them,  whatever  they  are  about,  in  that  very 
place  they  chance  to  stand  on;  insomuch  that  when  a  janissary, 
whom  you  have  to  guard  you  up  and  down  the  city,  hears  the  notice 
which  is  given  him  from  the  steeples,  he  will  turn  about,  stand  still, 
and  beckon  with  his  hand,  to  tell  his  charge  he  must  have  patience 
fora  while;  when,  taking  out  his  handkerchief,  he  spreads  it  on 
the  ground,  sits  cross-legged  thereupon,  and  says  his  prayers,  though 
in  the  open  market,  which  having  ended,  he  leaps  briskly  up,  sa- 
lutes the  person  whom  he  undertook  to  convey,  and  renews  his 
journey  with  the  mild  expression  of  Glie II  ghonnum  yhell,  or,  Come, 
dear,  follow  me." — Aaron  HilVs  Travels. 

Note  194,  p.  117.  —  Upon  EGYPT'S  land,  of  so  healing  a  power. 

The  Nucta,  or  Miraculous  Drop,  which  falls  in  Egypt  precisely 
on  St.  John's  Day,  in  June,  and  is  supposed  to  have  the  effect  of 
stopping  the  plague. 

Note  10"),  p.  118.  —  Are  the  diamond  turrets  of  SIIATU'KIAM. 

The  Country  of  Delight  —  the  name  of  a  province  in  the  king- 
dom of  Jinnistan,  or  Fairy  Land,  the  capital  of  which  is  called  the 
City  of  Jewels.  Amberabad  is  another  of  the  cities  of  Jinnistan. 

Note  190,  p.  118.  —Myfeaxt  is  now  of  the  Tooba  Tree. 

The  tree  Tooba,  that  stands  in  Paradise,  in  the  palace  of  Ma- 
homet. See  Sale's  t'relim.  Dixr.  —  Tooba,  says  D'Herbrlot,  signi- 
fies beatitude,  or  eternal  happiness. 

Note  197,  p.  118.— To  the  luff-tree,  »/>n'nf/inf/  by  AI.I.A'S  throne. 

Mahomet  is  described,  in  the  Md  chapter  of  the  Koran,  as  hav- 
ing seen  the  Angel  (Jabrid  "  by  the  lote-tree,  beyond  wiiich  there 
is  no  passing:  near  it  is  the  (larden  of  Eternal  Abode."  This 
tree,  say  the  coimiifiitators,  stands  in  the  seventh  Heaven,  on  the 
right  hand  of  the  Throne  of  God. 

264  NOTES. 

Note  108,  p.  119. — As  the  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  streams 
of  Basra.  —  "  It  is  said  that  the  rivers  or  streams  of  Basra  were 
reckoned  in  the  time  of  Pelal  ben  Abi  Bordeh,  and  amounted  to 
the  number  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  streams."  — 
Ebn  Haukal. 

Note  199,  p.  119. — Who,  like  them,  flan;/  the  jereed  carelessly. 
The  name  of  the  javelin  with  which  the  Easterns  exercise.  (See 
Castellan,  Mozurs  des  Othomans,  torn.  iii.  p.  161.) 

Note  200,  p.  120.  —  The  Banyan  Hospital.  —  "  This  account 
excited  a  desire  of  visiting  the  Banyan  Hospital,  as  1  had  heard 
much  of  their  benevolence  to  all  kinds  of  animals  that  were  either 
sick,  lame,  or  infirm,  through  age  or  accident.  On  my  arrival, 
there  were  presented  to  my  view  many  horses,  cows,  and  oxen,  in 
one  apartment;  in  another,  dogs,  sheep,  goats,  and  monkoys,  with 
clean  straw  for  them  to  repose  on.  Above  stairs  were  depositories 
for  seeds  of  many  sorts,  and  flat,  broad  dishes  for  water,  for  the  use 
of  birds  and  insects."  —  Parsons'*  Travels. 

It  is  said  that  all  animals  know  the  Banyans,  that  the  most  timid 
approach  them,  and  that  birds  will  fly  nearer  to  them  than  to  other 
people.  (See  Grandpre.) 

Note  201,  p.  120.  — Like  that  of  the  fragrant  grass  near  the 
Ganges.  —  "  A  very  fragrant  grass  from  the  banks  of  the  Ganges, 
near  Heridwar,  which  in  some  places  covers  whole  acres,  and  dif- 
fuses, when  crushed,  a  strong  odor." — Sir  W.  Jones,  on  the  Spike- 
nard of  the  Ancients. 

Note  202,  p.  120.  —  No  one  had  ever  yet  reached  its  summit.  — 
"  Near  this  is  a  curious  hill,  called  Koh  Talism,  the  Mountain  of 
the  Talisman,  because,  according  to  the  traditions  of  the  country, 
no  person  ever  succeeded  in  gaining  its  summit."  —  Kinneir. 

Note  203,  p.  122. — Is  warmed  into  life  by  the  eyes  alone. — "The 
Arabians  believe  that  the  ostriches  hatch  their  young  by  only  look- 
ing at  them." —  P.  Vanslebe,  Kelat.  d'Eyypte. 

Note  204,  p.  122.  —  And  then  lost  them  again  forever. — See 
Sale's  Koran,  note,  vol.  ii.  p.  484. 

Note  205,  p.  122.  — While  the  artisans  in  chariots.  —  Oriental 

Note  206,  p.  122.  — Who  kept  waring  over  their  heads  plates  of 
gold  an'l  silver  flowers, — Ferishta.  "Or  rather,"  says  Scott,  upon 

NOTES.  265 

the  passage  of  Ferislita,  from  which  this  is  taken,  "  smail  coins, 
stamped  with  the  figure  of  a  flower.  They  are  still  used  in  India  to 
distribute  in  charity,  and,  on  occasion,  thrown  by  the  purse-bearers 
of  the  great  among  the  populace." 

Note  207,  p.  123.  — Alley  of  trees.  —  The  fine  road  made  by  the 
Emperor  Jehan-Guire  from  Agra  to  Lahore,  planted  with  trees  on 
each  side.  This  road  is  250  leagues  in  length.  It  has  "  little  pyra- 
mids or  turrets,"  says  Bernier,  "  erected  every  half  league,  to  mark 
the  ways,  and  frequent  wells  to  afford  drink  to  passengers,  and  to 
water  the  young  trees." 

No:e  208,  p.  124.  —  That  favorite  tree  of  the  luxurious  bird  that 
li'/hts  M/>  the  chambers  of  its  next  icith  fire-flies. — The  Baya,  or 
Indian  Grosbeak.  —  Sir  W.  Jones. 

Note  209,  p.  124.  —  On  the  clear  cold  waters  of  ichich  floated 
multitudes  of  the  benuflfttl  red  lotus.  —  "  Here  is  a  large  pagoda  by 
a  tank,  on  the  water  of  which  float  multitudes  of  the  beautiful  red 
lotus;  the  flower  is  larger  than  that  of  the  white  water-lily,  and  is 
the  most  lovely  of  the  nymphreas  I  have  seen."  —  Mrs.  Graham's 
Journal  of  a  Residence  in  India. 

Note  210,  p.  125. — Had  fled  hither  fror.i  their  Arab  conquerors. 
—  "  On  les  voit  persecutes  par  les  Khalifes  se  retirer  dans  les  mon- 
tagnes  du  Kerman  :  plusieurs  choisircnt  pour  retraite  laTartarieet 
la  Chine;  d'autrcs  s'arretcrent  sur  les  Lords  du  Gauge,  a  Test  de 
Delhi." — 37.  Awjuetil,  Memoires  de  I'Acadt'inie,  torn.  xxxi.  p.  346. 

Note  211,  p.  125.  —  Like  their  own  F!re  in  the  Burininj  Field  at 
liAKOL".  —  The  "  Ager  ardens  "  described  by  Kaempfer,  Amamitat. 

Note  212,  p.  12-".  —  TJir  prey  of  stranr/rrs.  —  "  Cashmere  (says 
its  historians)  had  its  own  princes  4000  years  before  its  conquest 
by  Akbar  in  15S5.  Akhar  would  have  found  sonic  difficulty  to 
reduce  this  paradise  of  the  Indies,  situated  as  it  is  within  such  a 
fortress  of  mountains,  but  its  monarch  Yuscf  Khan,  was  basely 
betrayed  by  his  Omrahs."  —  1'ennant. 

Note  213,  p.  120.  —  Firc-ict>r«liii>]nr*. — Voltaire  tells  us  that 
iti  his  Tragedy,  "  l.cs  Guebres,"  he  was  generally  Mipposed  to  have 
alluded  to  the  Jansenists.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  thi<  story 
of  the  Fire- worshipper,  were  found  capable  of  a  similar  doulileness 
of  application. 

266  NOTES. 

Note  214,  p.  127.  —  'Tis  moonlight  over  OMAN'S  Sea. 
The  Persian  Gulf,  sometimes  so  called,  which  separates  the 
shores  of  Persia  and  Arabia. 

Note  215,  p.  127.  —  Tis  moonlight  in  HARSIOZIA'S  walls. 
The  present  Gombaroon,  a  town  on  the  Persian  side  of  the 

Note  216,  p.  127.  —  Of  trumpet  and  the  clash  of  zel. 
A  Moorish  instrument  of  music. 

Note  217,  p.  127.  —  The  wind-tower  on  the  EMIK'S  dome. 

"  At  Gombaroon  and  other  places  in  Persia,they  have  towers  for 
the  purpose  of  catching  the  wind,  and  cooling  the  houses."  —  Le 

Note  218,  p.  127.  — His  race  hath  brought  on  IRAN'S  name. 

"  Iran  is  the  true  general  name  for  the  empire  of  Persia."  — 
Asiatic  Researches,  Disc.  5. 

Note  219,  p.  128.  —  Engraven  on  his  reeking  sword. 
"  On  the  blades  of  their  scimitars  some  verse  from  the  Koran 
is  usually  inscribed."  — Eussel. 

Note  220,  p.  128.  — Draw  venom  forth  that  drives  men  mad. 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  Rhododendron  about  Trebizond  whose 
flowers  the  bee  feeds  upon,  and  the  -honey  thence  drives  people 
mad."  —  Tournefort. 

Note  221,  p.  129.  —  Upon  the  turban  of  a  king. 
"  Their  kings  wear  plumes  of  black  herons'  feathers  upon  the 
right  side  as  a  badge  of  sovereignty."  — Hanway. 

Note  222,  p.  129.  —  Springing  in  a  desolate  mountain. 
"  The  Fountain  of  Youth,  by  a  Mahometan  tradition,  is  situ- 
ated in  some  dark  region  of  the  East."  —  Richardson. 

Note  223,  p.  130.  —  On  summer-eves,  through  YEMEN'S  dales. 
Arabia  Felix. 

Note  224,  p.  130.  —  117(0,  lulFd  in  cool  kiosk  or  bower. 
"In  the  midst  of  the  garden  is  the  chiosk,  that  is,  a  large 
room,  commonly  beautified  with  a  fine  fountain  in  the  midst  of  it. 

NOTES.  267 

It  is  raised  nine  or  ten  steps,  and  enclosed  with  gilded  lattices, 
round  which  vines,  jessamines,  and  honeysuckles  make  a  sort  of 
green  wall;  large  trees  are  planted  round  this  place,  which  is  the 
scene  of  their  greatest  pleasures."  —  Lady  M.  W.  Montagu. 

Note  225,  p.  130.  —  Before  their  mirrors  count  the  time. 
The  women  of  the  East  are  never  without  their  looking-glasses. 
"In  Barbary,"  says  Shaw,  "they  are  so  fond  of  their  looking- 
glasses,  which  they  hang  upon  their  breasts,  that  they  will  not  lay 
them  aside,  even  when,  after  the  drudgery  of  the  day,  they  are 
obliged  to  go  two  or  three  miles  with  a  pitcher  or  a  goat's  skin  to 
fetch  water/'  —  Travels. 

In  other  parts  of  Asia  they  wear  little  looking-glasses  on  their 
thumbs.  "  Hence  (and  from  the  lotus  being  considered  the  emblem 
of  beauty)  is  the  meaning  of  the  following  mute  intercourse  of  two 
lovers  before  their  parents:  — 

"  '  He,  with  salute  of  deference  due, 

A  lotus  to  his  forehead  prest; 
She  rais'd  her  mirror  to  his  view, 

Then  turn'd  it  inward  to  her  breast.'  " 
Asiatic  Miscellany,  vol.  ii. 

Note  226,  p.  131.  —  Upon  the  emerald's  tiryin  blaze. 

"  They  say  that  if  a  snake  or  serpent  fix  his  eyes  on  the  lustre 
01  those  stones  (emeralds),  he  immediately  becomes  blind."  — 
Ahmed  lien  Abdalaziz,  Treatise  on  Jewels. 

Note  227,  p.  131.  —  After  the  day  beam's  withering  fire. 

"  At  Gombaroon  and  the  Isle  of  Onnus,  it  is  sometimes  so  hot 
that  the  people  are  obliged  to  lie  all  d;iy  in  the  water."  —  Marco 

Note  228,  p.  132.  —  Of  ARARAT'S  tremendous 

This  mountain  is  generally  supposed  to  ht>  inaccessible.  Stniy 
MJ8,  "  I  can  well  assure  the  reader  that  their  opinion  is  not  true, 
who  suppose  this  mount  to  be  Inaccessible."  He  adds,  "  the 
lower  part  of  the  mountain  is  cloudy,  misty,  and  dark;  the  middle- 
most part  very  cold,  and  like  clouds  of  snow;  but  the  upper  regions 
perfectly  calm."  It  was  on  this  mountain  that  the  Ark  was  sup- 
posed to  have  rested  after  the  IMugo.  and  part  of  it,  they  say,  ex- 
ists there  still,  which  Struy  thus  gravely  account  M  f«»r:  —  "  Whereas 
none  can  remember  that  the  air  on  the  top  of  the  lull  did  ever 

268  NOTES. 

change  or  was  subject,  either  to  wind  v>r  rain,  which  is  presumed  to 
be  the  reason  that  the  Ark  has  endured  so  long  without  being  rot- 
ten."—  (See  Carreri's  Travels,  where  the  Doctor  laughs  at  this 
whole  account  of  Mount  Ararat. ) 

Note  229,  p.  132.  —  The  Bridegroom,  with  his  locks  of  light. 

In  one  of  the  hooks  of  the  Shah  Nameh,  when  Zal  (a  celebrated 
hero  of  Persia,  remarkable  for  his  white  hair)  comes  to  the  terrace 
of  his  mistress  Rodahver  at  night,  she  lets  down  her  long  tresses 
to  assist  him  in  his  ascent;  —  he,  however,  manages  it  in  a  less 
romantic  way,  by  fixing  his  crook  in  a  projecting  beam.  (See 
Champion's  Ferdosi.) 

Note  230,  p.  133.  —  The  rock-goats  of  ARABIA  clamber. 
"On  the  lofty  hills  of  Arabia  Petrsea  are  rock-goats."  —  Nie~ 

Note  231,  p.  133.  —  Some  ditty  to  her  soft  Kanoon. 

"Canun,  espece  de  psaltdrion,  avec  des  eord^*  de  boyaux;  les 
dames  en  touchent  dans  le  serail,  avec  des  ecailles  »rmees  de  pointes 
de  cooc."  —  Toderini,  translated  by  De  Coumund* 

Note  232,  p.  137.  —  The  Ghcber  belt  that  rounu,  \im  cluny. 

"They  (the  Ghebers)  lay  so  much  stress  on  'heir  cushee  or 
girdle,  as  not  to  dare  to  be  an  instant  without  it."  —  Grose's  Voy- 
age. "  Le  jeunehomme  nia  d'abord  la  chose;  mais,  ayant  ete  de- 
pouille  de  sa  robe,  et  la  large  ceinture  qu'il  portoit  comme  Gliebr." 
etc.,  etc. — D'Herbelot,  art.  Agdnani.  "Pour  se  distinguer  des 
Idolatres  de  1'Inde,  les  Guebres  se  ceignent  tous  d'un  cordon  de 
iaine,  ou  de  poil  de  chameau."  — Encyclopedic  Franqoise. 

D'Herbelot  says  this  belt  was  generally  of  leather. 

Note  233,  p.  138.  — Among  the  living  lights  of  heaven. 
"  They  suppose  the  Throne  of  the  Almighty  is  seated  in  the  sun, 
and  hence  their  worship  of  that  luminary."  —  Hanway.  "  As  to 
fire,  the  Ghebers  place  the  spring-head  of  it  in  that  globe  of  fire, 
the  Sun,  by  them  called  Mythras,  or  Mihir,  to  which  they  pay  the 
highest  reverence,  in  gratitude  for  the  manifold  benefits  flowing 
from  its  ministerial  omniscience.  But  they  are  so  far  from  con- 
founding the  subordination  of  the  Servant  with  the  majesty  of  its 
Creator,  that  they  not  only  attribute  no  sort  of  sense  or  reasoning 
to  the  sun  or  fire,  in  any  of  its  operations,  but  consider  it  as  a 
purely  passive  blind  instrument,  directed  and  governed  Dy  the  iin- 

NOTES.  269 

mediate  impression  on  it  of  the  will  of  God:  but  they  do  not  even 
give  that  luminary,  all-glorious  as  it  is,  more  than  the  second  rank 
amongst  His  works,  reserving  the  first  for  that  stupendous  produc- 
tion of  divine  power,  the  mind  of  man."  —  Grose.  The  false 
charges  brought  against  the  religion  of  these  people  by  their  Mus- 
sulman tyrants  is  but  one  proof  among  many  of  the  truth  of  this 
writer's  remark,  that  "  calumny  is  often  added  to  oppression,  if 
but  for  the  sake  of  justifying  it." 

Note  234,  p.  139.  —  And  fiery  darts,  at  intermix. 

"  The  Mameluks  that  were  in  the  other  boat,  when  it  was  dark, 
used  to  shoot  up  a  sort  of  fiery  arrows  into  the  air,  which  in  some 
measure  resembled  lightning  or  falling  stars."  — Baumyarten. 

Note  235,  p.  141.  —  Which  grows  orer  the  tomb  of  the  musician, 
Tan-Sein.  —  "  Within  the  enclosure  which  surrounds  this  monu- 
ment (at  Gualior)  is  a  small  tomb  to  the  memory  of  Tan-Sein,  a 
musician  of  incomparable  skill,  wlio  flourished  at  the  court  of  Ak- 
bar.  The  tomb  is  overshadowed  by  a  tree  concerning  which  a 
superstitious  notion  prevails,  that  the  chewing  of  its  leaves  will 
give  an  extraordinary  melody  to  the  voice."  —  Narrative  of  a  Jour- 
ney from  Agra  to  Oitzein,  by  W.  Hunter,  Esq. 

Note  236,  p.  141.  —  The  awful  niijnalof  the  bamboo  staff.  —  "  It 
Is  usual  to  place  a  small  white  triangular  fla<;,  fixed  to  a  bamboo 
staff  of  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  at  the  place  where  a  tiger  has  de- 
stroyed a  man.  It  is  common  for  the  passengers  also  to  throw  each 
a  stone  or  brick  near  the  spot,  so  that  in  the  course  of  a  little  lime 
a  pile  equal  to  a  good  wagon-load  is  collected.  The  sight  of  these 
flags  and  piles  of  stones  imparts  a  certain  melancholy,  not  perhaps 
altogether  void  of  apprehension."  —  Oriental  Fiflil  S]>t»-tx,  vol.  ii. 

Note  237,  p.  141.  —  Ornamented  irith  the  most  beautiful  porce- 
lain.—  ''The  Ficus  Indica  is  called  the  Pagod  Tree  and  Tree  of 
Councils;  the  first,  from  the  idols  placed  under  its  shade;  the  sec- 
ond, Iwcause  meetings  were  held  under  its  cool  branches.  In  some 
places  it  is  believed  to  be  the  haunt  of  sjwctres,  as  the  ancient 
spreading  oaks  of  Wales  have  been  of  fairies;  in  others  are  erected 
beneath  the  shade  pillars  of  stone,  or  posts,  elegantly  carved,  ami 
ornamented  with  the  most  beautiful  porcelain  to  supply  the  use  of 
mirrors."  —  I'mnant. 

Note  2.TN.  p.  142.  —  /1»i«/  n'er  the  dreen  Sra  )>alrl>/  shines. 
The  Persian  (iulf.  —  "To  dive  for  pearls  in  the  Green  Sea,  or 
Persian  Gulf."  —  Sir  H*.  Jones. 

270  NOTES. 

Note  239,  p.  142.  — Bevealing  BAHREIN'S  groves  of  palm, 
And  lighting  KISHMA'S  amber  vines. 
Islands  in  the  Gulf. 

Note  240,  p.  142.  —  Blow  round  SET.AMA'S  sainted  cape. 

Or  Selemeh,  the  genuine  name  of  the  headland  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Gulf,  commonly  called  Cape  Musseldom.  "  The  Indians, 
when  they  pass  the  promontory,  throw  cocoa  nuts,  fruits,  or 
flowers,  into  the  sea,  to  secure  a  propitious  voyage."  — Morier. 

Note  241,  p.  142.  —  The  nightingale  now  bends  her  flight. 
"The  nightingale  sings  from  the  pomegranate  groves  in  the 
daytime,  and  from  the  loftiest  trees  at  night."  — EusseVs  Aleppo. 

Note  242,  p.  142.  —  The  best  and  brightest  scimitar. 

In  speaking  of  the  climate  of  Shiraz,  Francklin  says,  "  The  dew- 
is  of  such  a  pure  nature,  that  if  the  brightest  scimitar  should  be 
exposed  to  it  all  night,  it  would  not  receive  the  least  rust." 

Note  243,  p.  143.  —  Who,  on  CADESSIA'S  bloody  plains. 
The  place  where  the  Persians  were  finally  defeated  by  the  Arabs, 
and  their  ancient  monarchy  destroyed. 

Note  244,  p.  143.  — Beyond  the  Caspian 's  Iron  Gates. 
Derbend.  —  "  Les  Turcs  appellent  cette  ville  Demir  Capi,  Porte 
de  Fer:  ce  sont  les  Caspise  Porta?  des  anciens."  —  D'Herbelot. 

Note  245,  p.  143.  —  They  burst,  like  ZKII.AN'S  giant  palm. 

The  Talpot  or  Talipot  tree.  "  This  beautiful  palm-tree,  which 
grows  in  the  heart  of  the  forests,  may  be  classed  among  the  loftiest 
trees,  and  becomes  still  higher  when  on  the  po'nt  of  bursting  forth 
from  its  leafy  summit.  The  sheath  which  then  envelops  the 
flower  is  very  large,  and,  when  it  bursts,  makes  an  explosion  like 
the  report  of  a  cannon."  —  Thunberg. 

Note  246,  p.  145.  —  Before  whose  sabre's  dazzling  light. 
"  When  the  bright  cimitars  make  the  eyes  of  our  heroes  wink." 
—  The  Moallakat,  Poem  of  Amru. 

Note  247,  p.  146.  —  Sprung  from  those  old  enchanted  kings. 

Tahmuras,  and  other  ancient  kings  of  Persia;  whose  adventures 
in  Fairy-land  among  the  Peris  and  Dives  may  be  found  in  Richard- 
son's curious  Dissertation.  The  griffin  Simoorgh,  they  say,  took 
some  feathers  from  her  breast  for  Tahmuras,  with  which  he  adorned 
his  helmet,  and  transmitted  them  afterwards  to  his  descendants. 

NOTES.  271 

Note  248,  p.  146.  —  Of  sainted  cedars  on  its  banks. 

This  rivulet,  says  Uandini,  is  called  the  Holy  River,  from  the 
"  cedar  saints  "  among  which  it  rises. 

In  the  Leltres  Edijiantes,  there  is  a  different  cause  assigned  for 
its  name  of  iloly.  "In  these  are  deep  caverns,  which  formerly 
served  as  so  many  cells  for  a  great  number  of  recluses,  who  liad 
chosen  these  retreats  as  the  only  witnesses  upon  earth  of  the  sever- 
ity of  their  penance.  The  tears  of  these  pious  penitents  gave  the 
river  of  which  we  have  just  treated  tlie  name  of  the  Holy  River."  — 
See  Chateaubriand's  Beauties  of  Christianity. 

Note  249,  p.  147.  —Of  OMAN  beetling  awfully. 

This  mountain  is  my  own  creation,  as  the  "stupendous  chain," 
of  which  I  suppose  it  a  link,  does  not  extend  quite  so  far  as  the 
shores  of  the  Persian  Gulf.  "  This  long  and  lofty  range  of  moun- 
tains formerly  divided  Media  from  Assyria,  and  now  forms  the 
boundary  of  the  Persian  and  Turkish  empires.  It  runs  parallel 
with  the  river  Tigris  and  Persian  CJtilf,  and,  almost  disappearing 
in  the  vicinity  of  Gomberoon  (Hannozia),  se<>m<  once  more  to  rise 
in  the  southern  districts  of  Kerman,  and  following  an  easterly 
course  through  the  centre  of  Meckraun  and  Balouchistan,  is  en- 
tirely lost  in  the  deserts  of  Sinde."  —  Kinneir's  Persian  Empire. 

Note  250,  p.  148.  —  That  oft  the  sleeping  albatross. 
These  birds  slo^p  in  the  air.     They  are  most  common  about  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope. 

Note  251,  p.  148.  —  Beneath  the  Gheber's  lonely  cliff. 

"There  is  an  extraordinary  hill  in  this  neighborhood,  called 
Kohe  Gubr,  or  the  Guebre's  mountain.  It  rises  in  the  form  of  a 
lofty  cupola,  and  on  the  summit  of  i'.  they  say,  are  the  remains  of 
an  Atush  Kudu,  or  Fire-Temple.  It  Is  snperstitionsly  held  to  be 
the  residence  of  Deeves  or  Sprites,  and  many  marvellous  stories  are 
recounted  of  the  injury  and  witchcraft  suffered  by  those  who 
essayed  in  former  days  to  ascend  or  explore  it."  —  I'uttinijtr's 

Note  2.VJ,  p.  149.  —  Of  that  rant  mountain  stood  onjirc. 
The  (ihebors  generally  built  their  temples  over  subterraneous 

Note  2~»'.},  p.  149. —  Still  did  the  iiii'/htif  Jlamr  burn  on. 
"At  the  city  of  Yezd.  in  IVrsia,  which  is  distinguished  by  tha 
appellation  of  thtt  Darub  Ahadut,  or  Scat  of  Religion,  the  Gueb.-es 

272  NOTES. 

are  permitted  to  have  an  Atush  Kudu,  or  Fire-Temple  (which,  they 
assert,  has  had  the  sacred  fire  in  it  since  the  days  of  Zoroaster),  in 
their  own  compartment  of  the  city;  but  for  this  indulgence  they 
are  indebted  to  the  avarice,  not  the  tolerance,  of  the  Persian  gov- 
ernment, which  taxes  them  at  twenty-five  rupees  each  man."  — 
Pottinger's  Beloochistan. 

Note  254,  p.  150.  —  The  blood  of  ZAL  and  RUST  AM  rolls. 
Ancient  heroes  of  Persia.     "  Among  the  Guebres  there  are  some 
who  boast  their  descent  from  Rustam."  —  Stephen's  Persia. 

Note  255,  p.  150.  — Across  the  dark  sea  robber's  way. 
See  Russel's  account  of  the  panther's  attacking  travellers  in  the 
night  on  the  sea-shore  about  the  roots  of  Lebanon. 

Note  256,  p.  151.  —  The  wandering  Spirits  of  their  Dead. 

"  Among  other  ceremonies  the  Magi  used  to  place  upon  the  tops 
of  high  towers  various  kinds  of  rich  viands,  upon  which  it  was 
supposed  the  Peris  and  the  spirits  of  their  departed  heroes  regaled 
themselves."  —  Richardson. 

Note  257,  p.  151.  — Nor  charmed  leaf  of  pure  pomegranate. 

In  the  ceremonies  of  the  Ghebres  round  their  Fire,  as  described 
by  Lord,  "the  Daroo,"  he  says,  "giveth  them  water  to  drink,  and 
a  pomegranate  leaf  to  chew  in  the  mouth,  to  cleanse  them  from 
inward  uncleanness." 

Note  258,  p.  151.  — Nor  symbol  of  their  worshipped  planet. 

"  Early  in  the  morning,  they  (the  Parsees  or  Ghebers  at  Oulam) 
go  in  crowds  to  pay  their  devotions  to  the  Sun,  to  whom  upon  all 
the  altars  there  are  spheres  consecrated,  made  by  magic,  resembling 
the  circles  of  the  sun,  and  when  the  sun  rises  these  orbs  seem  to  be 
inflamed,  and  to  turn  round  with  a  great  noise.  They  have  every 
one  a  censer  in  their  hands,  and  offer  incense  to  the  sun."  — Rabbi 

Note  259,  p.  151.  —  They  swore  the  latest,  holiest  deed. 
"  Nul  d'entre  eux  oseroit  se  parjurer,  quand  il  a  pris  &  temoin 
cet  element  terrible  et  vengeur."  —  Encyclopedic  Franc.oi.te. 

Note  2GO,  p.  151.  —  The  Persian  lily  shines  and  towers. 

"  A  vivid  verdure  succeeds  the  autumnal  rains,  and  the  ploughed 
fields  are  covered  with  the  Persian  lily,  of  a  resplendent  yellow 
color."  — Russel's  Aleppo. 

VOTES.  273 

Note  261,  p.  154. —  When  toss'd  at  midnight  furiously. 

"It  is  observed,  with  respect  to  the  Sea  of  Herkeml,  that  when 
it  is  tossed  by  tempestuous  winds  it  sparkles  like  fire."  —  Travels 
of  Two  Mohammedans. 

Note  262,  p.  154.  —  Up,  daughter,  up  —  the  KEKXA'S  breath. 

A  kind  of  trumpet;  —  it  "  was  that  used  by  Tamerlane,  the  sound 
of  which  is  described  as  uncommonly  dreadful,  and  so  loud  as  to  be 
beard  at  the  distance  of  several  miles."  —  Richardson. 

Note  20:5,  p.  155.  —  Thou  wor'st  on  OIIOD'S  field  of  death. 

"Mohammed  had  two  helmets,  an  interior  and  exterior  one;  the 
latter  of  which,  called  Al  Mawashah,  the  fillet,  wreath,  or  wreathed 
garland,  he  wore  at  the  battle  of  Ohod."  —  Universal  History. 

Note  264,  p.  150.  — But  turn  to  ashes  on  the  lips. 

They  say  that  there  are  apple-trees  upon  the  sides  of  this  sea, 
which  boar  very  lovely  fruit,  but  within  are  all  full  of  ashes.— 
Thevenot.  The  same  is  asserted  of  the  oranges  there;  tide  Wit- 
man's  Travels  in  Asiatic  Turkey. 

41  The  Asphalt  Lake,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Dead  Sea,  is 
very  remarkable  on  account  of  the  considerable  proportion  of  salt 
which  it  contains.  In  this  respect  it  surpasses  every  other  known 
water  on  the  surface  of  the  earth.  This  great  proportion  of  bitter- 
tasted  salts  is  the  reason  why  neither  animal  nor  plant  can  live  in 
this  water."  — Klaproth's  Chemical  Analysis  of  the  Water  of  the 
Dead  Sea,  Annals  of  Philosophy,  January,  1813.  Hasselquist,  how- 
ever, doubts  the  truth  of  this  last  assertion,  as  there  are  shell-fish 
to  be  found  in  the  lake. 

Lord  Hyron  has  a  similar  allusion  to  the  fruits  of  the  Dead  Sea, 
in  that  wonderful  display  of  genius,  his  third  canto  of  Child? 
llnrold.  — magnificent  beyond  anything,  perhaps,  that  even  he  has 
ever  written. 

Note  205,  p.  150.  — While  lake*,  that,  shone  in  mockery  niyh. 

"The  Stihrab,  or  Water  of  tlic  Desert,  is  said  to  be  caused  by 
the  rarefaction  of  the  atmosphere  from  extreme  heat;  and,  which 
augments  the  delusion,  it  is  most  frequent  in  hollows,  where  water 
might  lx!  expected  to  lodge.  I  have  seen  bushes  and  trees  reflected 
in  it  with  as  much  accuracy  as  though  it  had  been  the  face  of  a  clear 
and  still  lake."  —  I'oHinijrr. 

44  As  to  the  unbelievers,  tbeir  works  are  like  a  vapor  in  a  plain 
which  the  thirsty  traveller  thiiikelli  to  In-  water,  until  when  lie 
comet h  thereto  he  fmdeth  it  to  be  nothing."  —  Kurun,  chap.  xxiv. 

274  NOlJiS. 

Note  266,  p.  157.  —  TJie  Bidmusk  had  just  passed  over.  —  "A 
wind  which  prevails  in  February,  called  Bidmusk,  from  a  small  and 
odoriferous  flower  of  that  name."  —  "  The  wind  which  blows  these 
flowers  commonly  lasts  till  the  end  of  the  month."  —  Le  Eruyn. 

Note  267,  p.  157.  —  The  sea-gipsies,  who  live  forever  on  the 
water. — "  The  Biajus  are  of  two  races:  the  one  is  settled  on  Borneo, 
and  are  a  rude  but  warlike  and  industrious  nation,  who  reckon 
themselves  the  original  possessors  of  the  Island  of  Borneo.  The 
other  is  a  species  of  sea-gipsies  or  itinerant  fishermen,  who  live  in 
small  covered  boats,  and  enjoy  a  perpetual  summer  on  the  Eastern 
Ocean,  shifting  to  leeward  from  island  to  island,  with  the  variations 
of  the  monsocn.  In  some  of  their  customs  this  singular  race  resem- 
ble the  natives  of  the  Maldivia  islands.  The  Maldivians  annually 
launch  a  small  bark,  loaded  with  perfumes,  gums,  flowers,  and 
odoriferous  wood,  and  turn  it  adrift  at  the  mercy  of  winds  and 
waves,  as  an  offering  to  the  Spirit  of  the  Winds ;  and  sometimes 
similar  offerings  are  made  to  the  spirit  whom  they  term  the  King 
of  the  Sea.  In  like  manner  the  Biajus  perform  their  offering  to 
the  God  of  Evil,  launching  a  small  bark,  loaded  with  all  the  sins 
and  misfortunes  of  the  nation,  which  are  imagined  to  fall  on  the 
unhappy  crew  that  may  be  so  unlucky  as  first  to  meet  with  it."  — 
Dr.  Ley  den  on  the  Languages  and  Literature  of  the  Indo-Chinese 

Note  268,  p.  157.  —  The  violet  sherbets.  —  "  The  sweet-scented 
violet  is  one  of  the  plants  most  esteemed,  particularly  for  its  great 
use  in  Sorbet,  which  they  make  of  violet  sugar."  — Hasselquist. 

"  The  sherbet  they  most  esteem,  and  which  is  drunk  by  the 
Grand  Signer  himself,  is  made  of  violets  and  sugar."  —  Tavernier. 

Note  269,  p.  157.  —  The  pathetic  measure  of  Nava.  —  "  Last  of 
all  she  took  a  guitar,  and  sung  a  pathetic  air  in  the  measure  called 
Nava,  which  is  always  used  to  express  the  lamentations  of  absent 
lovers." — Persian  Tales. 

Note  270,  p.  158.  —  No  music  tintd  her  parting  oar. 
"  The  Easterns  used  to  set  out  on  their  longer  voyages  with 
music."  —  Ilarmer. 

Note  271,  p.  159.  —  7/i  silence  through  the  Gate  of  Tears. 

"  The  Gate  of  Tears,  the  straits  or  passage  into  the  Red  Sea. 
commonly  called  Babelmandel.  It  received  this  name  from  the  old 
Arabians,  on  account  of  the  danger  of  the  navigation,  and  the 

NOTES.  276 

number  of  shipwrecks  by  which  it  was  distinguished;  which  induced 
them  to  consider  as  dead,  and  to  wear  mourning  for,  all  who  had 
the  boldness  to  hazard  the  passage  through  it  into  the  Ethiopic 
ocean."  —  Richardson. 

Note  272,  p.  159.  —  In  the  still  warm  and  living  breath. 
"  I  have  been  told  that  whensoever  an  animal  falls  down  dead, 
one  or  more  vultures,  unseen  before,  instantly  appear." — Pennant. 

Note  273,  p.  159.  — As  a  young  bird  of  BABYLON. 
"  They  fasten  some  writing  to  the  wings  of  a  Bagdat  or  Baby- 
lonian pigeon."  —  Travels  of  certain  Englishmen. 

Note  274,  p.  159.  —  Shooting  around  their  jasper  fount. 

"  The  Empress  of  Jehan-Guire  used  to  divert  herself  with  feed- 
ing tame  fish  in  her  canals,  some  of  which  were  many  years  after- 
wards known  by  fillets  of  gold,  which  she  caused  to  be  put  round 
them."  —  Harris. 

Note  275,  p.  159.  —  To  tell  her  ruby  rosary. 

"  Le  Tespih,  qui  est  un  chapelet  compose"  de  99  petites  boules 
d'agate,  de  jaspe,  d'ambre,  de  corail,  ou  d'autre  matiere  pre"cieuse. 
J'en  ai  vu  un  superbe  an  Seigneur  Jerpos;  il  etoit  de  belles  et 
grosses  perles  parfaites  et  egales,  estime  trente  mille  piastres."  — 

Note  276,  p.  162.  — Like  meteor  brands  as  if  throughout. 
The  meteors  that  Pliny  calls  "  faces." 

Note  277,  p.  163.  —  The  Star  of  EGYPT  whose  proud  light. 
"  The  brilliant  Canopus,   unseen    in    European  climates."  — 

Note  278,  p.  163.  —  In  the  White  Islands  of  the  West. 

See  Wilford's  learned  Essays  on  the  Sacred  Isles  of  the  West. 

Note  279,  p.  163.  —  Sparkles,  as  'twere  that  lightning  gem. 

A  precious  stone  of  the  Indies,  called  by  the  ancients  Orau- 
nrinn.  because  it  was  supposed  tube  found  in  places  where  thunder 
had  fallen.  Tcrtnllian  says  it  lias  a  glittering  appearance,  as  if 
there  had  been  fire  in  it;  and  the  author  of  the  Dissertation  in 
Harris's  Voyages  supposes  it  to  be  the  opal. 

Note  280,  p.  165.  —  Their  garb  —  the  leathern  belt  that  wraps. 
D'Lierbelot,  art.  Agduanl. 

276  NOTES. 

Note  281,  p.  165.  — Each  yellow  vest  —  that  rebel  hue. 
"The  Guebres  are  known  by  a  dark  yellow  color,  which  the 
men  affect  in  their  clothes."  —  Thevenot. 

Note  282,  p.  165.  —  The  Tartar  fleece  upon  their  caps. 
"  The  Kolah  or  cap,  worn  by  the  Persians,  is  made  of  the  skin 
of  the  sheep  of  Tartary."  —  Waring. 

Note  283,  p.  169.  —  Open  her  bosom's  glowing  veil. 

A  frequent  image  among  the  Oriental  poets.  "  The  nightin- 
gales warbled  their  enchanting  notes,  and  rent  the  thin  veils  of  the 
rosebud  and  the  rose."  — Jami. 

Note  284,  p.  172.  —  The  sorrowful  tree,  Nilica. —  "Blossoms 
of  the  sorrowful  Nyctanthes  give  a  durable  color  to  silk." — Re- 
marks on  the  Husbandry  of  Bengal,  p.  200.  Nilica  is  one  of  the 
Indian  names  of  this  flower.  —  Sir  W.  Jones.  The  Persians  call 
it  Gul.  —  Can-en. 

Note  285,  p.  173.  —  That  cooling  feast  the  traveller  loves. 

"  In  parts  of  Kerman.  whatever  dates  are  shaken  from  the 
trees  by  the  wind  they  do  not  touch,  but  leave  them  for  those  who 
have  not  any,  or  for  travellers."  —  Ebn  Haukal. 

Note  286,  p.  174.  —  The  Searchers  of  the  Grave  appear. 

The  two  terrible  angels  Monkir  and  Nakir,  who  are  called  "the 
Searchers  of  the  Grave"  in  the  "  Creed  of  the  orthodox  Mahome- 
tans "  given  by  Ockley,  vol.  ii. 

Note  287,  p.  174.  —  The  mandrake's  charnel  leaves  at  night. 
"  The  Arabians  call  the  mandrake  '  the  Devil's   candle,'  on 
account  of  its  shining  appearance  in  the  night."  — Richardson. 

Note  288,  p.  179.  —  Of  the  still  Halls  of  ISHMONIE. 

For  an  account  of  Ishmonie,  the  petrified  city  in  Upper  Egypt, 
where  it  is  said  there  are  many  statues  of  men,  women,  etc.,  to  be 
seen  to  this  day,  see  Perry's  View  of  the  Levant. 

Note  289,  p.  180.  —  And  ne'er  did  saint  of  ISSA  gaze.  — Jesus. 

Note  290,  p.  181.  —  The  death-flames  that  beneath  him  burn'd. 
The  Ghebers  say  that  when  Abraham,  their  great  Prophet,  was 
thrown  into  the  fire  by  order  of  Nimrod,   the  flame  turned  in- 

NOTES.  277 

stantly  into  "a  bed  of  roses,  where  the  child  sweetly  reposed."  — 

Of  their  other  Prophet,  Zoroaster,  there  is  a  story  told  in  Dion 
Prusams,  Oral.  30,  that  the  love  of  wisdom  and  virtue  leading 
him  to  a  solitary  life  upon  a  mountain,  he  found  it  one  day  all  in 
a  flame,  shining  with  celestial  fire,  out  of  which  he  came  without 
any  harm,  and  instituted  certain  sacrifices  to  God,  who,  he  de- 
clared, then  appeared  to  him.  (See  Patrick  on  Exodus  iii.  2.) 

Note  291,  p.  183.  — A  ponderous  sea-horn  hung,  and  blew. 

'*  The  shell  called  Siiankos,  common  to  India,  Africa,  and  the 
Mediterranean,  and  still  used  in  many  parts  as  a  trumpet  for  blow- 
ing  alarms  or  giving  signals:  it  sends  forth  a  deep  and  hollow 
sound."  —  Pennant. 

Note  292,  p.  184.  — And  the  white  ox-tails  stream' d  behind. 
"  The  finest  ornament  for  the  horses  is  made  of  six  large  flying 
tassels  of  long  white  hair,  taken  out  of  the  tails  of  wild  oxen,  that 
are  to  he  found  in  some  places  of  the  Indies."  —  Thetenot. 

Note  293,  p.  18.">.  —  Sweet  as  the  angel  ISKAKIL'S. 
"  The  angel  Israfil,  W!K>  has  the  most  melodious  voice  of  all 
God's  creatures."  —  Sale. 

Note  294,  p.  188.  —  Wound  slow,  as  through  GOLCONDA'S  vale. 
See  Hoole  upon  the  Story  of  Sinhad. 

Note  295,  p.  190.  —  From  the  wild  covert  where  he  lay. 

"  In  this  thicket  upon  the  banks  of  the  Jordan  several  sorts  of 
wiM  beasts  are  wont  to  harbor  themselves,  whose  being  washed 
out  of  the  covert  by  the  overflowings  of  the  river  gave  occasion  to 
that  allusion  of  Jeremiah,  he  shall  come  up  like  a  lion  from  the 
swelling  of  Jordan." — MaundrelVa  Aleppo. 

Note  290,  p.  190.  — Like  the  wind  of  the  south  o'er  a  summer 
lute  blowing. 

"This  wind  (the  Samoor)  so  softens  the  strings  of  lutes  that 
they  can  never  be  timed  while  it  lasts."  —  Stephen's  Persia. 

Note  297,  p.  190.  —  With  nought  but  the  sea-star  to  light  up  her 

"One  of  the  greatest  curiosities  found  in  the  Persian  Gulf  is  a 
fish  wbirli  I  lie  Knglish  call  Mar-fish.     It    is  circular,  and  at  night 
very  luminous,  resembling  the  full  moon  surrounded  by  rays.''  — 
3/irzu  Aim  Taleb. 

278  NOTES. 

Note  298,  p.  197.  —  And  still,  when  the  merry  date-season  is 

For  a  description  of  the  merriment  of  the  date-time,  of  their 
work,  their  dances,  and  their  return  home  from  the  palm-groves 
at  the  end  of  autumn  with  the  fruits,  see  Kaenipfer,  Amanitat. 

Note  299,  p.  197. — That  ever  the  sorrowing  sea-bird  has  wept. 
Some  naturalists  have  imagined  that  amber  is  a  concretion  of 
the  tears  of  birds.     (See  Trevoux,  Chambers.) 

Note  300,  p.  197.  —  We'll  seek  where  the  sands  of  the  Caspian 
are  sparkling. 

"  The  bay  Kieselarke,  which  is  otherwise  called  the  Golden  Bay, 
the  sand  whereof  shines  as  fire."  —  Struy. 

Note  301,  p.  198.  —  The  summary  criticism  of  the  Chabuk.—' 
"  The  application  of  whips  or  rods."  — Dubois. 

Note  302,  p.  199.  —  Chief  Holder  of  the  Girdle  of  Beautiful 
Forms. —  Kaempfer  mentions  such  an  officer  among  the  attendants 
of  the  King  of  Persia,  and  calls  him  "  formse  corporis  aestinialor." 
His  business  wras,  at  stated  periods,  to  measure  the  la.lies  of  the 
Haram  by  a  sort  of  regulation-girdle,  whose  limits  it  was  not 
thought  graceful  to  exceed.  If  any  of  them  outgrew  this  standard 
of  shape,  they  were  reduced  by  abstinence  till  they  came  within 
proper  bounds. 

Note  303,  p.  199.  —  Forbidden  River. —The  Attock. 

"  Akbar  on  his  way  ordered  a  fort  to  be  built  upon  the  Nilab, 
which  he  called  Attock,  which  means  in  the  Indian  language  For- 
bidden; for,  by  the  superstition  of  the  Hindoos,  it  was  held  unlaw- 
ful to  cross  that  river."  — Dow's  Hindustan. 

Note  304,  p.  200.  —  One  genial  star  that  rises  ni<jhtly  over  their 
heads.  —  "  The  inhabitants  of  this  country  (Zinge)  are  never 
afflicted  with  sadness  or  melancholy;  on  this  subject  the  Sheikh 
Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari  has  the  following  distich:  — 

"  '  Who  is  the  man  without  care  or  sorrow,  (tell)  that  I  may  rub 
my  hand  to  him. 

"'(Behold)  the  Zingians,  without  care  or  sorrow,  frolicsome 
with  tipsiness  and  mirth.' 

"  The  philosophers  have  discovered  that  the  cause  of  this  cheer- 
fulness proceeds  from  the  influence  of  the  star  Soheil  or  Canopus, 

NOTES.  279 

•which  rises  over  them  every  night."  — Extract  from  a  Geographi- 
cal Perxian  Manuscript  called  Heft  Aklim,  or  the  Seven  Climates, 
translated  by  W.  Ouseley,  Esq. 

Note  305,  p.  200.— Lizards.  —  "  The  lizard  Stellio.  The  Arabs 
call  it  Hardun.  The  Turks  kill  it,  for  they  imagine  that  by  de- 
clining the  head  it  mimics  them  when  they  say  their  prayers."  — 

Note  300,  p.  200.  —  Royal  Gardens.  —  For  these  particulars  re- 
specting Hussun  Abdaul,  I  am  indebted  to  the  very  interesting 
Introduction  of  Mr.  Elphinstone's  work  upon  Caubul. 

Note  307,  p.  201.  —  It  was  too  delicious.  —  "  As  you  enter  at 
that  liazar,  without  the  gate  of  Damascus,  you  see  the  Green 
Mosque,  so  called  because  it  hath  a  steeple  faced  with  green  glazed 
bricks,  which  render  it  very  resplendent;  it  is  covered  at  top  with 
a  p.-ivilion  of  the  same  stuff.  The  Turks  say  this  mosque  was 
made  in  that  place,  because  Mahomet  being  come  so  far,  would 
not  enter  the  town,  saying  it  was  too  delicious." —  Thevenot.  This 
reminds  one  of  the  following  pretty  passage  in  Isaac  Walton:  — 
"  When  I  sat  last  on  this  primrose  bank,  and  looked  down  these 
meadows,  I  thought  of  them  as  Charles  the  Emperor  did  of  the  city 
of  Florence,  '  that  they  were  too  pleasant  to  be  looked  on,  but  only 
on  holidays.'  " 

Note  308,  p.  201.  —  The  Rultana  Nourmahal,  the  Light  of  the 
Hnruni.  —  Nourmahal  signifies  Light  of  the  liar  mi.  She  was  after- 
wards called  Nourjehan,  or  the  Light  of  the  World. 

Note  300,  p.  201.  —  The  small  shining  fishes  of  which  she  was  so 
fond.  —  See  note  274,  p.  322. 

Note  310,  p.  201.  —  l[nro>iii-al-Itasi'hid  and  his  fair  mixtresa 
Murida. —  "  Flaroun-al-Kaachld,  cinquiiMiic  Khalifedcs  Alussides, 
sY'tant  mi  jour  brouillt-  avcc  tine  de  st-s  maiircsses  nommt;e  Mari- 
dah,  <ju'il  aimoit  cependant  jusqu'a  1'exres,  etortte  mdsintclligeiice 
ayant  d«;ja  dun;  quclqut!  terns,  cominem;a  a  s'mnnyrr.  (iiafar 
Hanuaki,  son  favori,  qui  sVn  ap<-reut,  romiuaiida  ii  Abbas  hen- 
Ahnaf,  px<vllent  \H>  -te  de  c«  tons-lit,  de  coin;>o«»r  qu<>l-|ii«>.<4  vers 
sur  lo  sujet  de  <%ette  hrouillcric.  Cc  portt:  ext'-i-iila  1'ordn1  'If  (Jia- 
far,  qui  lit  clianU«r  ces  vcrs  par  MoiHsali  on  pn'-scniM'  du  Kli  ilifc,  et 
ce  prince  fut  trllcini-ut  touch*''  di1  la  t<'ii  Iri'ssi'  ih'.s  vors  du  jxn'-te  ot 
de  la  douceur  de  la  voix  du  musiricn.  qiril  alia  aussitot  trouver 
Maridah,  ct  fit  sa  palx  av«-c  Hie."  —  D' ll<rl,>l,>t. 

280  NOTES. 

Note  311,  p.  202.  —  With  its  roses  the  brightest  that  earth  ever 

"  The  rose  of  Kashmire,  for  its  brilliancy  and  delicacy  of  odor, 
has  long  been  proverbial  in  the  East."  —  Forster. 

Note  312,  p.  202.  — Bound  the  waist  of  some  fair  Indian  dancer 
is  ringing. 

"  Tied  round  her  waist  the  zone  of  bells,  that  sounded  with  rav- 
ishing melody."  — Song  of  Jayadeva. 

Note  313,  p.  203.  —  The  young  aspen-trees. 
"  The  little  isles  in  the  lake  of  Cachemire  are  set  with  arbors 
and  large-leaved  aspen-trees,  slender  and  tall."  — Bernier. 

Note  314,  p.  203.  —  Shines  in  through  the  mountainous  portal 
that  opes. 

"  The  Tuckt  Suliman,  the  name  bestowed  by  the  Mahometans 
on  this  hill,  forms  one  side  of  a  grand  portal  to  the  Lake."  — 

Note  315,  p.  203.  —  The  Valley  holds  its  Feast  of  Roses. 
"  The  Feast  of  Roses  continues  the  whole  time  of  their  remain- 
ing in  bloom."     (See  Pietro  cle  la  Valle.) 

Note  316,  p.  203.—  The  Flow'ret  of  a  hundred  leaves. 
"  Gul  sad  berk,  the  Rose  of  a  hundred  leaves.    I  believe  a  par- 
ticular species."  —  Ouseley. 

Note  317,  p.  203. — Behind  the  palms  of  BABAMOULE.  — Ber- 

Note  318,  p.  204.  —  On  BKLA'S  hills  is  less  alive. 

A  place  mentioned  in  the  Toozek  Jehangeery,  or  Memoirs  of 
Jehan-Guire,  where  there  is  an  account  of  the  beds  of  saffron- 
flowers  about  Cashmere. 

Note  319,  p.  205.  —  Sung  from  his  lighted  gallery. 

"  It  is  the  custom  among  the  women  to  employ  the  Maazeen  to 
chant  from  the  gallery  of  the  nearest  minaret,  which  on  that  occa- 
sion is  illuminated,  and  the  women  assembled  at  the  house  respond 
at  intervals  with  a  ziraleet  or  joyous  chorus."  —  Russel. 

Note  320,  p.  205.  — From  gardens,  where  the  silken  swing. 

"  The  sw  ing  is  a  favorite  pastime  in  the  East,  as  promoting  a 

NOTES.  281 

circulation  of  air,  extremely  refreshing  in  those  sultry  climates."  — 

"  Tlie  swings  are  adorned  with  festoons.  This  pastime  is  accom- 
panied with  the  music  of  voices  and  of  instruments,  hired  by  the 
masters  of  the  swings."  —  Thevenot. 

Note  321,  p.  205.  —  Among  the  tents  that  line  the  way. 
"At  the  keeping  of  the  Feast  of  Roses  we  beheld  an  infinite 
number  of  tents  pitched,  with  such  a  crowd  of  men,  women,  boys, 
and  girls,  with  music,  dances,"  etc.,  etc.  —  Herbert. 

Note  322,  p.  205.  —  An  ansicer  in  song  to  the  kiss  of  each  wave. 

"  An  old  commentator  of  the  Chou-King  says,  the  ancients  hav- 
ing remarked  that  a  current  of  water  made  some  of  the  stones  near 
its  banks  send  forth  a  sound,  they  detached  some  of  them,  and 
being  charmed  with  the  delightful  sound  they  emitted,  constructed 
King  or  musical  instruments  of  them."  —  Grosier. 

This  miraculous  quality  has  been  attributed  also  to  the  shore  of 
Attica.  "  II  u  jus  littus,  ait  Capella,  concentum  musicum  illisis 
terne  undis  reddere,  quod  propter  tantam  eruditionis  vim  puto  dic- 
tum." —  Ludoc.  Vives  in  Auyustin.  de  Cititat.  Dei,  lib.  xviii.  c.  8. 

Note  323,  p.  200.  —  So  felt  the  magnificent  Son  of  Acbar. 
Jehan-Guire  was  the  son  of  the  Great  Acbar. 

Note  324,  p.  207.  —  Yet  playful  as  Peris  just  loos'd  from  their 

In  the  wars  of  the  Dives  with  the  Peris,  whenever  the  former 
took  the  latter  prisoners,  "  they  shut  them  up  in  iron  capes,  and 
hung  them  on  the  highest  trees.  Here  they  were  visited  by  their 
companions,  who  brought  them  the  choicest  odors."  —  IHchardson. 

Note  325,  p.  207.  —  Of  thejfoiccrs  of  this  plain'  t  —  though  treas- 
ures id-re  there. 

In  the  Malay  language  the  same  word  signifies  women  and 

Note  320,  p.  207.  —  lie  saro  that  City  of 

The  capital  of  Shadukiam.     Sec  note  1!>5,  p.  203. 

Note  :J27,  p.  208.  —  He  sits,  withjiinc'rctxfrttcr'd  round. 
See  tin-  representation  of  the  Kastern  Cupid,  pinioned  closely 
round  with  wreaths  of  (lowers  in  1'ieart's  (Vr<;moiii<  *  /»•  liyiciuica. 

282  NOTES. 

Note  328,  p.  208.  —  Lose  all  their  glory  ivhen  he  flies. 

"  Among  the  birds  of  Tonquin  is  a  species  of  goldfinch,  which, 
sings  so  melodiously  that  it  is  called  the  Celestial  Bird.  Its  wings, 
when  it  is  perched,  appear  variegated  with  beautiful  colors,  but 
when  it  flies  they  lose  all  their  splendor."  —  Grosier. 

Note  329,  p.  209.  —  Whose  pinion  knows  no  resting-place. 
"As  these  birds  on  the  Bosphorus  are  never  known  to  rest, 
they  are  called  by  the  French  'les  aines  damnees.'  "  — Dalloway. 

Note  330,  p.  209.  — //'  there  his  darling  rose  is  not. 

"  You  may  place  a  hundred  handfuls  of  fragrant  herbs  and 
flowers  before  the  nightingale,  yet  he  wishes  not,  in  his  constant 
heart,  for  more  than  the  sweet  breath  of  his  beloved  rose."  — 

Note  331,  p.  210.  —  From  the  great  Mantra,  which  around. 

"  Hi:  is  said  to  have  found  the  great  Mantra,  spell  or  talisman, 
through  which  he  ruled  over  the  elements  and  spirits  of  all  denom- 
inations." —  Wilford. 

Note  332,  p.  210.  —  To  the  gold  gems  of  AFRIO. 
"The  gold  jewels  of  Jinnie,  which  are  called  by  the  Arabs  El 
Herrez,  from  the  supposed  charm  they  contain."  — Jackson. 

Note  333,  p.  210.  —  To  keep  him  from  the  Sillim's  harm. 
"  A  demon,  supposed  to  haunt  woods,  etc.,  in  a  human  shape." 
—  Richardson. 

Note  334,  p.  210.  —  Her  ScUm's  smile  to  NOURMAHAL. 
The  name  of  Jehan-Guire  before  his  accession  to  the  throne. 

Note  335,  p.  211.  — Anemones  and  Seas  of  Gold. 
"  Hemasagara,  or  the  Sea  of  Gold,  with  flowers  of  the  brightest 
gold  color."  —  Sir  W.  Jones. 

Note  336,  p.  211.  —  Their  buds  on  CAMADEVA'S  quiver. 

"  This  tree  (the  Nagacesara)  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  on 
earth,  and  the  delicious  odor  of  its  blossoms  justly  gives  them  a 
place  in  the  quiver  of  Camadeva,  or  the  God  of  Love."  —  Id. 

Note  337,  p.  212.  —  Is  caWd  the  Mistress  of  the  Night. 
"  The  Malayans  style  the  tuberose  (Pvlianthes  tuberosa)  San- 
dal Mafem,  or  the  Mistress  of  ilie  Night."  —  Pennant. 

NOTES.  283 

Note  338,  p.  212.  —  That  wander  through  ZAM ARA'S  shades. 

The  people  of  the  Batta  country  in  Sumatra  (of  which  Zamara 
is  one  of  the  ancient  names),  "  when  not  engaged  in  war,  lead  an 
idle,  inactive  life,  passing  the  day  in  playing  on  a  kind  of  flute, 
crowned  with  garlands  of  flowers,  among  which  the  globe-amaran- 
thus,  a  native  of  the  country,  mostly  prevails."  —  Marsden. 

Note  339,  p.  212.  — From  the  divine  Amrita  tree. 

"  The  largest  and  richest  sort  (of  the  Jambn,  or  rose-apple)  is 
called  Arnrita,  or  immortal,  and  the  mythologists  of  Tibet  apply 
the  same  word  to  a  celestial  tree,  bearing  ambrosial  fruit."  —  Sir 
W.  Jones. 

Note  340,  p.  212.  —  Doicn  to  the  basil  tuft,  that  waves. 

Sweet  basil,  called  Ilayhan  in  Persia,  and  generally  found  in 

"The  women  in  Egypt  go,  at  least  two  days  in  the  week,  to 
pray  and  weep  at  the  sepulchres  of  the  dead;  and  the  custom  then 
is  to  throw  upon  the  tombs  a  sort  of  herb,  which  the  Arabs  call 
rihan,  and  which  is  our  sweet  basil."  — Maillet,  Lett.  10. 

Note  341,  p.  212.  —  To  scent  the  desert  and  the  dead. 
"  In  the  Great  Desert  are  found  many  stalks  of  lavender  and 
rosemary."  —  Asiatic  Researches. 

Note  342,  p.  213.  —  That  blooms  on  a  leaflets  bough. 
"The  almond-tree,  with  white  flowers,  blossoms  on  the  bare 
branches."  —  Ilassclquist. 

Note  343,  p.  213.  —  Inhabit  the  mountain-herb,  that  dyes. 

An  herb  on  Mount  Lihamis,  which  is  said  to  communicate  a 
yellow  golilen  hue  to  the  teeth  of  the  goats  and  other  animals  that 
graze  upon  it. 

Niebuhr  thinks  this  may  he  the  herb  which  the  Eastern  alchy- 
mlsts  look  to  as  a  means  of  making  gold.  "  Most  of  those  alchy- 
mical  enthusiasts  think  themselves  sure  of  success,  if  they  could 
but  find  out  the  herb  which  gilds  tho  teeth  and  gives  a  yellow 
color  to  the  flesh  of  the  sheep  that  eat  it.  Even  the  oil  of  this 
plant  must  be  of  a  golden  color.  It  is  called  llfim-hixrhnt  cd  dab." 

Father  Jerom  Dandini,  however,  asserts  that  the  teeth  of  the 
goats  at  Mount  Lihanus  are  of  a  ai'/rrr  color;  and  adds,  "This 
confirms  to  me  that  which  I  observed  in  f'andia:  to  wit,  that  the 
animal-  that  live  on  Mount  Ida  cat  a  certain  herb  which  render* 

284  NOTES. 

their  teeth  of  a  golden  color;  which,  according  to  my  judgment, 
cannot  otherwise  proceed  than  from  the  mines  which  are  under 
ground."  —  Dandini's  Voyage  to  Mount  Libauus. 

Note  344,  p.  214.  —  Of  AZAB  blew,  icas  full  of  scents.  —  The 
myrrh  country. 

Note  345,  p.  214.  —  Where  Love  himself,  of  old,  lay  sleeping. 

"This  idea  (of  deities  living  in  shells)  was  not  unknown  to  the 
Greeks,  who  represent  the  young  Nerites,  one  of  the  Cupids,  as 
living  in  shells  on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea."  —  Wilford. 

Note  340,  p.  215.  —  From  CHINDARA'S  warbling  fount  I  come. 
"A  fahulous  fountain,  where  instruments  are  said  to  be  con- 
stantly playing."  — liichardson. 

Note  347,  p.  215.  —  The  cinnamon-seed  from  grove  to  grove. 

"  The  Pompadour  pigeon  is  the  species,  which,  by  carrying  the 
fruit  of  the  cinnamon  to  different  places,  is  a  great  disseminator  of 
this  valuable  tree."  —  (See  Brown's  Illustr.  Tab.  19.) 

Note  348,  p.  215.  —  The  past,  the  present,  and  future  of 

"  Whenever  our  pleasure  arises  from  a  succession  of  sounds,  it  is 
a  perception  of  a  complicated  nature,  made  up  of  a  sensation  of 
the  present  sound  or  note,  and  an  idea  or  remembrance  of  the  fore- 
going, while  their  mixture  and  concurrence  produce  such  a  myste- 
rious delight,  as  neither  could  have  produced  alone.  And  it  is  often 
heightened  by  an  anticipation  of  the  succeeding  notes.  Thus 
Sense,  Memory,  and  Imagination  are  conjunctively  employed."  — 
Gerrard  on  Taste. 

This  is  exactly  the  Epicurean  theory  of  Pleasure,  as  explained 
by  Cicero:  —  "Quocirca  corpus  gaudere  tanuliu,  dum  pra?sentem 
sentiat  voluptatem:  animum  et  praesentem  percipere  pariter  cum 
corpore,  et  prospicere  venientem,  nee  praeteritam  pneterfluere 

Madame  de  Stae'l  accounts  upon  the  same  principle  for  the  grat- 
ification we  derive  from  rhyme :  —  "  Elle  est  I' image  de  1  esperance 
et  du  souvenir.  Un  son  nous  fait  desirer  celui  qui  doit  lui  repon- 
dre,  et  quand  le  second  retentit  il  nous  rappelle  celui  qui  vient  de 
nous  echapper." 

Note  340,  p.  216.  —  Whose  glimpses  are  again  withdrawn. 
"The  Persians  have  two  mornings,  the  Soobhi  Kazim  and  the 
Soobhi  Sadig,  the  false  and  the  real  daybreak.     They  account  for 

NOTES.  285 

this  phenomenon  in  a  most  whimsical  manner.     They  say  that  as 
the  sun  rises  from  behind  the  Kohi  Qaf  (Mount  Caucasus),  it  passes 
a  hole  perforated  through  that  mountain,  and  that  darting  its  rays 
through  it,  it  is  the  cause  of  the  Soobhi  Kazim,  or  this  temporary 
appearance  of  daybreak.     As  it  ascends,  the  earth  is  again  veiled 
in  darkness,  until  the  sun  rises  above  the  mountain  and  brings 
•with  it  the  Soobhi  Sadig,  or  real  morning."  —  Scott  Waring.    He 
thinks  Milton  may  allude  to  this,  when  he  says: 
"  Ere  the  blabbing  Eastern  scout, 
The  nice  morn,  on  the  Indian  steep 
From  her  cabin'd  loop-hole  peep." 

Note  350,  p.  217.  — In  his  magn(  Shalimar. 

"  In  the  centre  of  the  plain,  as  it  approaches  the  Lake,  one  of 
the  Delhi  Emperors,  I  believe  Shah  Jehan,  constructed  a  spacious 
garden  called  the  Shalimar,  which  is  abundantly  stored  with  fruit- 
trees  and  flowering  shrubs.  Seme  of  the  rivulets  which  intersect 
the  plain  are  led  into  a  canal  at  the  back  of  the  garden,  and  flow- 
ing through  its  centre,  or  occasionally  thrown  into  a  variety  of 
water-works,  compose  the  chief  beauty  of  the  Shalimar.  To  deco- 
rate this  spot,  the  Mogul  princes  of  India  have  displayed  an  equal 
magnificence  and  taste;  especially  Jehan  Gheer,  who,  with  the  en- 
chanting Xoor  Mahl,  made  Kashmire  his  usual  residence  during 
the  summer  months.  On  arches  thrown  over  the  canal  are  erected, 
at  equal  distances,  four  or  five  suites  of  apartments,  each  consisting 
of  a  saloon,  with  four  rooms  at  the  angles,  where  the  followers  of 
the  court  attend,  and  the  servants  prepare  sherbets,  coffee,  and  the 
hookah.  The  frame  of  the  doors  of  the  principal  saloon  is  com- 
posed of  pieces  of  a  stone  of  a  black  color,  streaked  with  yellow 
lines,  and  of  a  closer  grain  and  higher  polish  than  porphyry.  They 
were  taken,  it  is  said,  from  a  Hindoo  temple,  by  one  of  the  Mogul 
princes,  ami  are  esteemed  of  great  value."  —  Forstcr. 

Note  351,  p.  217.  —  Of  beauty  from  its  fount*  and  stream*. 

*'  The  waters  of  Carhemir  are  the  mo-t  renowned  from  its  being 
supposed  that  the  Cachemirians  are  indebted  for  their  beauty  to 
them."  —  All  Yezili. 

Note-  :if>2,  p.  217.  —  Sinying  In  ytmlrn*  oj  the  South. 

"  From  him  I  received  the  following  little  Ca/./el,  or  I.ove  Song, 
the  notes  of  which  he  committed  to  pajxT  from  the  voice  of  one  of 
those  singing  girls  of  C'ashmere.  who  wander  from  that  delightful 
valley  over  the  various  parts  of  India."  —  1'rrninn  Miscellanies. 

286  NOTES. 

Note  353,  p.  217.  —  Delicate  as  the  roses  there. 

"The  roses  of  the  Jinan  Kile,  or  the  Garden  of  the  Nile  (at- 
tached to  the  Emperor  of  Marocco's  palace),  are  unequalled,  and 
mattresses  are  made  of  their  leaves  for  the  men  of  rank  to  recline 
upon."  —  Jackson. 

Note  354,  p.  218.  —  With  Paphian  diamonds  in  their  locks. 

"  On  the  side  of  a  mountain  near  Paphos  there  is  a  cavern  which 
produces  the  most  beautiful  rock-crystal.  On  account  of  its  brill- 
iancy it  has  been  called  the  Paphian  diamond."  — Mariti. 

Note  355,  p.  218.  —  On  the  gold  meads  of  Candahar. 

"  There  is  a  part  of  Candahar,  called  Peria,  or  Fairy  Land."  — 
Thevenot.  In  some  of  those  countries  to  the  north  of  India,  vege- 
table gold  is  supposed  to  be  produced. 

Note  356,  p.  218.  —  Had  been  by  magic  all  set  flying. 
"  These  are  the  butterflies  which  are  called  in  the  Chinese  lan- 
guage Flying  Leaves.  Some  of  them  have  such  shining  colors, 
and  are  so  variegated,  that  they  may  be  called  flying  flowers;  and 
indeed  they  are  always  produced  in  the  finest  flower-gardens."  — 

Note  357,  p.  218.  —  The  features  of  young  Arab  maids. 

"  The  Arabian  women  wear  black  masks  with  little  clasps  pret- 
tily ordered."  —  Carreri.  Niebuhr  mentions  their  showing  but  one 
eye  in  conversation. 

Note  358,  p.  219.  —  On  CASEIN'S  hills. 

"  The  golden  grapes  of  Casbin."  —  Description  of  Persia. 

Note  359,  p.  219. — And  sunniest  apples  that  CAUBUL  — 
"  The  fruits  exported  from  Caubul  are  apples,  pears,  pome- 
granates," etc.  —  Elphinstone. 

Note  360,  p.  219.  —  In  all  its  thousand  gardens  bears. 

"We  sat  down  under  a  tree,  listened  to  the  birds,  and  talked 
with  the  son  of  our  Mehmaundar  about  our  country  and  Caubul,  of 
which  he  gave  an  enchanting  account:  that  city  and  its  100,000 
gardens,"  etc.  — Id. 

Note  361,  p.  219.  —  MALAYA'S  nectar1  d  mangusteen. 
"  The  mangusteen,  the  most  delicate  fruit  in  the  world  ;  the 
pride  of  the  Malay  islands."  —  Marsden. 

NOTES.  287 

Note  362,  p.  219.  —  Seed  of  the  Sun,  from  IRAN'S  land. 
"  A  delicious  kind  of  apricot,  called  by  the  Persians  Tokm-ek- 
shems,  signifying  sun's  seed."  — Description  of  Persia. 

Note  363,  p.  219.  —  With  rich  conserve  of  Visna  cherries. 
"  Sweetmeats,  in  a  crystal  cup,  consisting  of  rose-leaves  in  con- 
serve, with  lemon  of  Visna  cherry,  orange  flowers,"  etc.  —  Russel. 

Note  364,  p.  219.  —Feed  on  in  EKAC'S  rocky  dells. 
"Antelopes,  cropping  the  fresh  berries  of  Erac."  —  The  Moal- 
lakat,  Poem  of  Tarafa. 

Note  365,  p.  219.  — And  urns  of  porcelain  Jrom  that  isle. 

Mauri-ga-Sima,  an  island  near  Formosa,  supposed  to  have  been 
sunk  in  the  sea  for  the  crimes  of  its  inhabitants.  The  vessels 
which  the  fishermen  and  divers  bring  up  from  it  are  sold  at  an 
immense  price  in  China  and  Japan.  (See  Kaempfer.) 

Note  366,  p.  219.  —  Amber  Rosolli.  —  Persian  Tales. 

Note  367,  p.  219.  —  From  vineyards  of  the  Green-Sea  gushing. 
The  white  wine  of  Kishma. 

Note  368,  p.  219.  —  Offered  a  city's  wealth. 

"  The  King  of  Zeilan  is  said  to  have  the  very  finest  ruby  that 
was  ever  seen.  Kublai-Klian  sent  and  offered  the  value  of  a  city 
for  it,  but  the  Kins  answered  he  would  not  give  it  for  the  treasure 
of  th«  world."  — Marco  Polo. 

Note  309,  p.  220.  —  Upon  a  rosy  lotus  wreath. 
The  Indians  feign  that  Cupid  was  first  swn  floating  down  the 
Ganges  on  the  yymphiea  yelumbo.     (See  Pennant.) 

Note  ;J7<),  p.  220.  —  When  warm  they  Hue  from  TEFI.IS'  brook*. 
Teflis  is  celebrated  for  its   natural    warm   baths.     (See  Ebn 

Note  371,  p.  220.  —  Of  a  syrinda. 

"  Tli«  Indian  Syritula,  or  guitar."  —  Symez. 

Note  372,  p.  220.  —  It  i«  this,  it  In  this. 

"  Around  the  exterior  of  the  Dewan  Khar*  (a  building  of  Shah 
AlliimN),  In  the  cornice  are  the  following  lines  in  letters  of  p>M 
Upon  a  ground  of  whitu  marble:  —  '  //'  there  be  a  paradise  ujwn 
earth,  it  is  this,  it  is  this.'  "  —  Franklin. 

288  NOTES. 

Note  373,  p.  221. — As  the  flower  of  the  Amr a  just  opyd  by  a  bee. 

"  Delightful  are  the  flowers  of  the  Amra  trees  on  the  mountain- 
tops,  while  the  murmuring  bees  pursue  their  voluptuous  toil."  — 
Song  of  Jayadeva. 

Note  374,  p.  221.  —  And  precious  tueir  tears  as  that  rain  from 
the  sky. 

"  The  Nisan  or  drops  of  spring  rain,  which  they  believe  to  pro- 
duce pearls  if  they  fall  into  shells."  — Richardson. 

Note  375,  p.  221. —  Who  for  wine  of  this  earth  left  the  foun- 
tains above. 

For  an  account  of  the  share  which  wine  had  in  the  fall  of  the 
angels,  see  Mariti. 

Note  376,  p.  221.  —  Of  ISKAFIL,  the  Angel,  there. 
The  Angel  of  Music.    See  note  293,  p.  185. 

Note  377,  p.  224.  —  When  first  'tis  by  the  lapwing  found. 
The  Hudhud,  or  Lapwing,  is  supposed  to  have  the  poweV  of 
discovering  water  under  ground. 

Note  378,  p.  226.  —  Of  her  dream.  —  See  p.  157. 

Note  379,  p.  226.  — Like  that  painted  porcelain.  —  "  The  Chi- 
nese had  formerly  the  art  of  painting  on  the  side  of  porcelain  ves- 
sels fish  and  other  animals,  which  were  only  perceptible  when  the 
vessel  was  full  of  some  liquor.  They  call  this  species  Kia-tsin ; 
that  is,  azure  is  put  in  press,  on  account  of  the  manner  in  which 
the  azure  is  laid  on."  —  "  They  are  every  now  and  then  trying  to 
recover  the  art  of  this  magical  painting,  but  to  no  purpose."  — 

Note  380,  p.  227. — House  of  Azor.  —  An  eminent  carver  of 
idols,  said  in  the  Koran  to  be  father  to  Abraham.  "I  have  such 
a  lovely  idol  as  is  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  house  of  Azor."  — 

Note  381,  p.  227.  —  The  Unequalled.  — Kachmire  be  Nazeer.  — 

Note  382,  p.  228.  —  Miraculous  fountains.—"  The  pardonable 
superstition  of  the  sequestered  inhabitants  has  multiplied  the 

NOTES.  289 

places  of  worship  of  Mahadeo,  of  Beshan,  and  of  Brama.  All 
Cashmere  is  holy  land,  and  miraculous  fountains  abound."  — 
Major  Kennel's  Memoirs  of  a  Map  of  Hindostan. 

Jehan-Guire  mentions  "a  fountain  in  Cashmere  called  Tirnagh, 
which  signifies  a  snake;  probably  because  some  large  snake  had 
formerly  been  seen  there." — "During  the  lifetime  of  my  father, 
I  went  twice  to  this  fountain,  which  is  about  twenty  coss  from  the 
city  of  Cashmere.  The  vestiges  of  places  of  worship  and  sanctity 
are  to  be  traced  without  number  amongst  the  ruins  and  the  caves 
which  are  interspersed  in  its  neighborhood."  —  Toozek  Jehan- 
geery.  Vide  Asiat.  Misc.  vol.  ii. 

There  is  another  account  of  Cashmere  by  Abul-Fazil,  the  author 
of  the  Ayin-Acbaree,  "who,"  says  Major  Rennel,  "appears  to 
have  caught  some  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  valley,  by  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  holy  places  in  it." 

Note  383,  p.  228.  —  Roofed  with  flowers.  —  "  On  a  standing  roof 
of  wood  is  laid  a  covering  of  fine  earth,  which  shelters  the  build- 
ing from  the  great  quantity  of  snow  that  falls  in  the  winter  season. 
This  fence  communicates  an  equal  warmth  in  winter,  as  a  refresh- 
ing coolness  in  the  summer  season,  when  the  tops  of  the  houses, 
which  are  planted  with  a  variety  of  flowers,  exhibit  at  a  distance 
the  spacious  view  of  a  beautifully  chequered  parterre."  —  Forster. 

Note  384,  p.  228.  —  The  triple-colored  tortoise-shell  of  Pegu.  — 
"  Two  hundred  slaves  there  are  who  have  no  other  office  than  to 
hunt  the  woods  and  marshes  for  triple-colored  tortoises  for  the 
King's  Vivary.  Of  the  shells  of  these  also  lanterns  are  made."  — 
Vincent  le  Blanc's  Tratels. 

Note  :>85,  p.  228. — Like  the  meteors  of  the  north  as  they  are 
seen  by  those  hunters.  —  For  a  description  of  the  Aurora  Borealis 
as  it  appears  to  these  hunters,  vide  Encyclopedia. 

Note  386,  p.  229.  —  Odoriferous  wind.  —  This  wind,  which  is  to 
blow  from  Syria  Damascena,  is,  according  to  the  Mahometans,  one 
of  the  signs  of  the  Last  Day's  approach. 

Another  of  the  signs  is,  "  Great  distress  in  the  world,  so  that  a 
man  when  he  passes  by  another's  grave  shall  say,  '  Would  to  God 
I  were  in  his  place!'  "  —  Sale's  Preliminary  Discourse. 

Note  387,  p.  230. —  As  precious  as  the  Cerulean  Throne  of 
Conlnunju.  —  "  On  Mahommed  J-'haw's  return  to  Koolburga  (the 
capital  of  Dckkan),  he  made  a  grtat  festival,  and  mounted  thia 

290  NOTES. 

throne  with  much  pomp  and  magnificence,  calling  it  Firozeh  or 
Cerulean.  I  have  heard  some  old  persons,  who  saw  the  throne 
Firozeh  in  the  reign  of  Sultan  Mainood  Bhamenee,  describe  it. 
They  say  that  it  was  in  length  nine  feet,  and  three  in  breadth; 
made  of  ebony,  covered  with  plates  of  pure  gold,  and  set  with 
precious  stones  of  immense  value.  Every  prince  of  the  house  of 
Bhamenee,  who  possessed  this  throne,  made  a  point  of  adding  to  it 
some  rich  stones;  so  that  when,  in  the  reign  of  Sultan  Mamood,  it 
was  taken  to  pieces,  to  remove  some  of  the  jewels  to  be  set  in  vases 
and  cups,  the  jewellers  valued  it  at  one  corore  of  oons  (nearly  four 
millions  sterling).  I  learned  also  that  it  was  called  Firozeh  from 
being  partly  enamelled  of  a  sky-blue  color,  which  was  in  time 
totally  concealed  by  the  number  of  jewels."  — Ferishta. 

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